#you can’t deny the desire in his eyes
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moonamite · 3 months ago
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Johnny staring at Tylor Tuskmon with desire compilation
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AND OF COURSE THE BIGGEST OFFENDER
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versupital · 4 months ago
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geeked up.
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you fucked around and snuck him an aphrodisiac, so now all you’ve got to do is survive until the effects wear off!
content: smut, established relationships, bondage, edging, overstim, degrading, oral sèx, public sèx, exhibitionism, drüg/alcohol use, afab!reader, gn!reader on nanami, spit kink, masochism
incl pairings: kento, toji, satoru, suguru
word count. 8.3k
soundtrack 🌧️💿: sativa ft. swae lee
COCK THAT TEA / NANAMI.
A cup of hot tea. That's all Nanami had requested.
The lemon stimulant you’d mixed into the drink had made him wrap up his work early, clamoring downstairs, his eyes glassy with desire.
"Darling," he breathes out, staring at the floor, holding the cup in his shaky hand. "Are you busy?”
He’s so polite about it. At first.
“What ever is the matter, Ken?” you question, running your cleaning rag in slow circles over the dining room table, standing on your toes as you stretch across the surface. “I’m trying to clean.”
He nearly growls, eyes shutting and reopening with frustration. His fingers flutter at his side like butterfly wings and he takes a step towards you.
“I need to be inside of you,” he blurts, looking momentarily embarrassed before his face darkens, then he looks up at you with viper eyes.
“Right now?” you fake your surprise, walking around the table to stand in front of him. “But the dining room is so filthy…” You watch as his nostrils flare; he’s clearly taking in your scent.
“You know I would never force you,” he grits out, voice choked. “But also - mmh - p-pretty please?”
His arms come up, either side of you, and he moves to pin your body between himself and the table. He releases the teacup on the table and his fingertips grip onto the surface so harshly that his nails make tiny imperfections in the wood.
“My God, are you feeling alright?” you stall, pressing the back of your hand to his flushed forehead. “You look unwell.”
“I feel unwell, baby,” he says, tone serious and apologetic. “I feel like I might die if I can’t put my cock in you. That is unreasonable.”
Even as he says the words, it’s clear in his eyes that he doesn’t care how irrational it is. He wants to act on his urges so badly.
You rest your hand over the painful lump in his pants. “Is that so?”
“No, please don’t,” he breathes. “D-Don’t wanna lose my control…”
“You won’t,” you purr, slipping his zipper down. “You’re gonna be good and let me take care of you for once, ‘kay?”
His shoulders visibly slump a bit as the pressure from his hard cock is released by his unzipped pants. You take it a step further and dip your fingernails underneath the waistband of his Calvin’s, softly scratching over the blond happy trail.
“No, no,” Nanami’s head falls onto your shoulder, full body shudders coming out of him.
“I’m just trying to help, Ken,” you quip, rolling your eyes, moving to pull your hand out; but in the same beat his large hand clamps around your wrist and shoves it down deeper.
He jerks forward against you, a whine for help coming out of his mouth and landing breathily in your ear canal. You try not to shudder yourself, wanting to maintain the facade that you’re in control.
“Please, just take it out,” he begs.
How could you deny him? Your usually composed, control-taking husband is begging you for something. It breaks your heart as much as it nearly makes you cream your undies.
"Alright," you say calmly, clamping your fist around his shaft, squeezing harshly as you remove it from its barrier.
Nanami whispers gratefully in your ear - over and over - until it fades into moans, because of you sliding the pad of your thumb over his oh-so sensitive cockhead, spreading his precum all over the throbbing skin.
You have his heartbeat in your palm. You feel it racing faster with each stroke of your finger. The organ jerks in response and so does Nanami.
His hips begin to mindly grind back and forth, his torso rubbing yours, hardening your nipples and exposing your arousal.
You let his length slide in and out of your fist, and his hands grip onto your breasts like they can save him from ruin. His hair has fallen down around his head, sweat ruining his gelled style. He looks so desperate.
You'd only wanted to see if the aphrodisiac would remove some of his patience. He's always so kind, slow, gentle. You were writhing to see him lose control, have his way with you, rough you up. You’d hardly expected it to turn him this submissive and needy.
Fwip! Fwip! The sound of your top disappearing makes you gasp. You’d gotten too lost in thought and allowed him to get your shirt off, leaving you in just underwear.
Your thighs turn in on themselves, but they’re no match for his strength. It’s as if you'd let a feral panther out of its cage, his nails clawing at the waistband, threatening to shred it as his hips pick up speed.
On a whim, you release his shaft and put your palm to his tip, running it over the shiny pink skin. Nanami’s neck nearly snaps back. You rotate your palm over the tip and rip! his iron grip accidentally tears your underwear off.
He doesn’t notice, as he maintains his grip on the fabric with his eyes closed. He freezes in place as you violate his sensitive tip and the underside.
“Agh - shit, shit, nonono…” Nanami spits out.
Until finally he’s had enough.
In exactly three movements, he has your spine curved painfully against his torso, hand clasping a handful of your hair and pulling it against his chest, your shredded undies fallen somewhere on the floor. His groans in your ear are wet and raunchy, coming from the depths of his throat.
His cock pushes through your soaking ring of muscle, sliding through the ridges until it rams into your cervix. He has no regard for your pain level, punishing you even as tears brim your eyes. His hand cracks harshly on your asscheek, before scratching the sensitive skin and making you scream.
"My love, you feel so fucking good.” The lewd words leave his lips in an uncharacteristic way.
You want to roll your hips in time with his but he releases your hair and brings his hand around to cup your neck - faltering you as he thrusts deeper, the painfully solid cock violating your walls. If not for your pussy flooding the veiny organ, your entrance would be raw from the harsh stroking and lack of regard for your pleasure.
With a release of your throat, Nanami's hand moves to the back of your head and forces it down against the table, cheek pressed to the wood. You look at the abandoned drink at the other end. Now you’re watching as the cold liquid ripples through the teacup with each rhythmic thrust of your husband splitting you from hole to hole.
“F-Fuck, Ken, take it easy,” you whine, knowing it’s a full fib.
You want him deeper than he already is, cock bottomed out, heavy balls sticking to your clit each time he goes all the way in. Your internal organs feel like they’re being bent out of shape, pressure in your belly a bit painful, but mostly exhilarating.
“I-I can’t, baby,” Nanami grunts from above. “Your pussy has me so out of control.”
You decide to admit, in a sultry moment of regret what you’d done. Your pussy can’t take all the credit for making him this feral, can it? Nanami doesn’t respond much, but his cock begins to take it out on you.
His veins pop from his wrists as he pushes your head further into the wood, cheek squishing in on itself, muffling your sobs.
He moans in response to his new rhythm, grunting your name over and over, mixed with naughty minx, take me, feel good?, mhmm.
He hikes his hips at an upward angle and the new spot he's hitting is foul, causing you to scream so loud the noise reverberates off of the walls.
You put a leg up, knee to the edge of the table for stability. Your arms stretch across the surface and you feel drool trickle out of your mouth - your mind so fucked out that you can't even bring yourself to moan.
"Where's my spouse?" Nanami questions rhetorically, shoving a deep thrust in you while cracking his palm on your stinging asscheek. "Why can't I hear them?"
You swallow, trying to stop some of the drool, attempting to answer him but all that comes out is a guttural cry for mercy.
Nanami pretends not to hear it, and runs his nails along your pretty arched back.
His fingers yank your head in the direction of his old cup, “Be sure to look at what got you into this ordeal, dear. Stimulants in my tea, really?”
Your moans return when you feel the pool of fire deep within your belly, and Nanami feels you fluttering your walls around him in an attempt to fight off the orgasm. But he recognizes your moans all too well, so he drills his hips harder to push it out of you.
"Ken! No!" you cry, trying to hold it off, but just before you release he's spilling his own hot spurts into you.
You feel each rope hit the opening to your cervix and your cunt sends you into the harshest orgasm you've had your entire marriage; your one leg that remained on the floor giving out, leaving you to dangle on the edge of the table.
But Nanami's strokes show no sign of slowing down. You feel the veins in his cock drumming against your slick ridges, and his length remains solid.
“Mm, so much wetter now,” he notes, his cum nearly sticking his balls to to your clit every time he shoves his groin against your ass.
The noise that comes from your cum mixing together as lubricant is so nasty; it makes your toes curl as you lay on your stomach and continue to take the pain.
You’ll spend the rest of the evening begging him for mercy and not receiving it. When you think he’s finally done, he carryies you upstairs, telling you that he’s going to give you a massage to calm your strained legs.
But when you end up on your side as Nanami stuffs you full of kids for the sixth or seventh time, you realize the massage had been part of his plan, and he gives no hint that he’s near finished with you.
KNOTTY BOY / TOJI.
Toji had arrived home from work right on schedule. You'd been in the middle of preparing breakfast for dinner, the kitchen smelling of bacon grease and syrup.
He'd come in and given you a quick kiss, then disappeared to the back of the apartment to shower.
While he was gone, you'd finished cooking, and loaded his plate up with sausage, bacon, and eggs. Then, you plopped a tower of pancakes in the leftover space. This is when you ripped open a packet of honey from the gas station. You'd seen it on the counter one day whilst getting snacks and, you were curious to see if the rumors were true.
You’d felt a twinge of guilt as you drizzled the honey all over his pancakes and then hid your naughty work by covering it with maple syrup. It almost felt like drugging him, but you knew it wasn’t, and the worst that’ll happen is consensual rounds of sex. You’d disposed of the empty wrapper in the trash just in time.
Toji comes back from his shower with damp hair and oily skin, wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts that cling low on his v-line. Your chest heats in response, but you maintain an innocent smile as you pad over to him with his dinner.
He sits down at the kitchen table, ready to dive into your delicious meal with a thankful grunt.
"Not hungry?" he questions, noticing that you remain standing behind him, rubbing some of the tension from his shoulders.
"I had a heavy lunch," you lie. "How was work?"
Toji pokes his fork into a sausage link before bringing it to his mouth, "Hot. Annoying. Lil' bitch Shiu was moaning about his sunburn all day."
You giggle, observing the darker shade on Toji's skin from where he has the privilege of tanning instead of frying in the sun. He's glowing like a cinnamon roll coated in sweet icing, and you want to drag your tongue over his moisturized torso.
"Well, least you're home now," you kiss his cheek. "I missed you. I hate when you have to work such long shifts."
He sighs. "Gotta do what I gotta do, puss. Have ta'make sure you have everything you want."
"That so?" you coo. "There’s something I want right now."
Toji reaches for the cup of orange juice you'd poured for him, thick eyebrow raised, “Spit it out.”
"Have you ever considered letting me tie you up? You know, 'stead of the other way around?" The words are out before you can stop them, and you're immediately writhing in regret when there's silence for several moments.
Toji takes a sip of the juice, and then turns to face you. "Needy brat, you thinkin' about tying me up while I'm tryin'a eat?"
You tap your fingers on his traps, trying to build a shovel to dig yourself out of this hole. "Actually, I've been thinking about it all day," you admit. "I was just worried you might be too tired for… you know."
His fork pokes into the pancake stack. You’re overcome with a sense of urgency. The minute he ingests the honey, the timer begins.
Toji chuckles and tilts his head awkwardly, rolling his neck. "You know I would never let you go to bed without a couple of nuts, ma." He takes a big bite of the cakes. "Didn't expect that, though.”
"O-Only if you want, of course," you throw out quickly, suddenly more nervous.
Toji swallows and turns to wrap an arm around you, pulling you flush against his body as he sticks his fork back into his food. "If you're gonna be in control, ya can't backtrack. Gotta stand on business.”
You swallow, "Well, unlike you, I need your compliance because I can't just throw you around like you weigh nothing."
Toji's body shakes against you as he takes another bite of pancake. You know the effects take a bit to kick in, but you aren't sure how much time you have left now.
"Would like to see you try to throw me around, though,” he says before adding, “do ya even know how to tie a knot, lil’ girl?”
"Of course," you say, offended. "I've watched you plenty of times."
"Usually while you're already on your second orgasm and cockdrunk, but..." he shrugs, "we'll see.”
You part from him, allowing him to finish his dinner as you collect the ropes from the closet. You untangle them as you wait. You're buzzing with excitement, blood pumping through your ears and your cunt, as you can already imagine his large torso being pierced with puffy red marks from the ropes digging into his baby-soft skin.
You're just about ready to drag him away from the kitchen by his ears when Toji finally comes into the room, sucking leftover syrup off of his thumb, eyeballing you.
"Mm, did you do something different to the pancakes, puss?" he questions. "Might be a new favorite of mine."
You smile and shrug. "Nope, don't think so." 
He buys it, or if he doesn't, he doesn't press the topic further. Instead his eyes travel over the wooden chair in the center of your bedroom.
“Welp, let the games begin,” he says, holding out his arms as he releases himself to be at your mercy.
Around ten minutes later, his sits with his arms pinned behind his back. His torso is attached to the back of the chair while his ankles are bound to the legs.
“Well done,” Toji grunts, attempting to tug on the ropes and being unsuccessful in loosening the knots. “My lil’ brat does pay attention.”
You lean over him, putting your hands on his shoulders. His cock has definitely hardened by now, sitting pretty in his lap as you’d requested he take his shorts off before being tied up.
You watch as his thighs flex and his cock jerks up, tip glistening under the warm lighting in your bedroom.
“Agh, fuck,” he spits. “Show me what you got, dollface.”
You continue to stand, fingers linked together in front of you, implying you have no intention of touching him. “What do you mean?” you ask innocently.
“Brat, don’t piss me off,” he grunts, a vein in his neck throbbing as he tilts his neck, fighting harder against his restraints now.
You giggle innocently and bring your knee up to the meeting of his thighs, ghosting it over his light brown tip. “You doing okay there?”
His eyes flutter closed, beads of sweat appearing on his brow line just under his hair. “Fuck. Stop doing that shit.”
“Or what?” you taunt, knowing he’s trapped.
“Oh, I’m going to kill you,” he threatens, but he can’t help but let out a delicious grunt when you glide your knee up his wanton shaft - back down again.
“What is it you always call me?” you tap your chin, pretending to think about it. “Needy whore.”
“Fuck you,” he grits, fists balled up behind him. You see his fingers attempting to reach the bottom of the knot but to no avail. He has no way out of this and he knows it. You’re watching the aphrodisiac kick into his system in real time.
His pupils expand when he looks up at you. His cheeks are slightly pink, and his bottom lip is underneath his teeth.
“Okay, okay,” you say, rolling your eyes. You reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it slowly past your stomach, then over your chest. You shake your tits in his face, and he leans forward, snapping his teeth, like a shark threatening to take a chomp out of your flesh.
“Quit playing with me, Y/N,” he says sharply. “I’mma fuck you up. Bruise your little uterus so bad.”
“Would love to see you try,” you crack, pulling the fabric off your head and shaking your hair free. You know just how bad your hair turns him on, how much he enjoys nearly ripping it from your scalp as he delivers painful backshots.
He jerks against the chair, causing you to jump a little. You turn around and sit on his lap.
Toji’s entire body stiffens. “God, why is my shit so sensitive?” The sentence comes out breathy, almost whiny. Toji never allows himself to switch, but you feel you may have unlocked the ten percent of him that likes to be submissive.
“What did you do?” he goes on. “You did something to me - fuck.”
And the moment you'd come clean, you were already bouncing deliciously on his cock, watching as he squirmed against his restraints and cussed in your ear.
"You're fuckin' dead," he keeps saying, before giving up and breaking into a pathetic little, "fu-uck. Mmh, yeah, ride me baby. Gonna fill you up."
"No you're not," you say, noting how his cock begins to twitch and using your knees to lift yourself up and slide it out of you, leaving your cunt pulsing with ache.
"What the fuck - get back here," he growls. His arms pull against the ropes, and you fear at any moment they're going to pop.
"This is payback, Toji." You look at your nails and then sit yourself back down, facing him with your cunt touching his cock but not allowing him the pleasure of being inside of it. "All those times you overstimulate me, or edge me.”
You lean forward and kiss him on the nape of his neck. He howls, jerking his cock up against you for even the slightest bit of pleasure.
You're just about to drag your teeth across the prominent vein in his neck when a terrifying shred! sound enters the air.
You sit up straight and stare down at Toji in horror, but his face has twisted into a sinister, knowing smile.
"You fucked up, you know that?" he questions, and before you can scramble off of his lap, his arms are around your body, capturing you against his chest.
The next few seconds are a blur. Before you can blink or breathe, the tip of Toji’s cock feels like it’s inside your intestines, your back against your bedroom door as he fucks you against it.
“A honey packet like I’m some booty call?” Toji gripes, drilling his hips into you so mean, that all you can do is slap your hands on his back for mercy. “‘Bout to turn your pussy inside out, demon brat.”
“Toji! Please,” you cry, trying to spread your legs on either side of his hips to make it feel like he isn’t going so deep, but his cockhead is so slick and fat that it’s threatening to crack you open.
His body being covered in oil is not working to your advantage. Your hands are sliding off of him, until you finally give up and take your hands in his hair, and he increases his speed because of it.
“I oughta chain you to the bed with a vibrator on your clit,” he threatens. “Since you wanna play with me. Fuck. So fucking creamy, ma.” His head falls to stare at your cunt as his cock drills in and out of it, white substance layering on his groin and between your folds.
“I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry,” you whine into his ear, “o-ooh. Shit.”
“‘Sorry baby,’” Toji mocks. “Yeah. ‘M sorry too. Sorry that you ain’t gonna be able to walk for a few days. Hold on tight, brat.”
SHOOT MY STEAM / GETO.
"Baby, can you pass me my bottle?"
The sentence you've been waiting to hear for about thirty minutes now.
You're at the gym with your boyfriend. You've been resting on the bench, watching him do his sets, waiting for him to ask for his water.
Suguru knows you always mix in his electrolyte packets for him, only this time, you'd found a convenient aphrodisiac powder to put inside instead. You wanted to see just how hot and sweaty he could really get with it flowing through his veins while he trained.
Only one issue with that: you’d accidentally forgotten about putting it in there, so you’d taken a fat swig a while back and now you’re paying for it as you sit and watch him.
"C'mon, monk, back on your feet," he says, taking a deep breath after chugging some of his water. He places it next to you and then reaches his hands out to help you stand. "'M gonna lose motivation if you're not up with me."
You swallow thickly and force a smile, before taking his hands and rising back up to follow him to the weights. Your body is tingling, cunt ripe with desire.
You decide to do some lunges to distract yourself while Suguru works on the lat pulldown, and you stare with heat in your chest as his back muscles flex under the cut-off sleeves of his shirt.
You think about your nails sliding over the sweaty skin to incite dangerous growls from your boyfriend, making him fall apart as he pumps you full of dick. Your head spins.
You attempt to shake the thoughts away and continue lunging until he finishes his pulldowns. When he stands, an erection is painfully obvious in his shorts.
He walks over to you, voice low. "Well, I guess this means I'm doing good," he comments, pointing to his new friend, and then gesturing to you. "It's also probably because your legs are looking good, angel. Damn."
You giggle and walk to drop off the weights. "Are you gonna be able to keep working out with... that?" You’re mostly asking for yourself, because if you’re forced to sit here and watch him workout with a boner, you may combust.
Suguru glances at himself in the mirror, rolling his shoulder blades. "It'll go away in a second. It's just all the blood pumping through me."
You blink. Your self control is dwindling but you try to redirect your focus. "'Kay, well I'll be over here starting some squats."
Suguru nods and pulls you in for a sweaty kiss, "Alright, love you."
God, you wish he hadn’t done that. Now everywhere his body touched you feels like a thousand needles. You want to grab him the minute he attempts to pull away, but you’re frozen in place, the fuzzy memory of his sweaty lips on yours making your panties damper.
And the next twenty minutes are history. You watch as Suguru loses more and more of his focus, his painful erection never coming close to dying. He slows down in his workouts, his eyes lingering on you much longer than before. You even watch him blink harshly, attempts running futile at pushing away his feelings. Then at last, he comes to collect you.
Now, you know it's a little unsanitary to be laid out over the sauna bench, Suguru leaning over you as steam and sweat drip from his locks.
You also don't care. The lust in his eyes, the furrow in his brow from where he doesn't understand why he couldn't wait to get home to do this is making your pussy throb around him.
"Fuck me," Suguru’s eyes roll back as he brings one of your slippery legs over his chiseled hip, sides of his cock gliding against your internal ridges. “Feels too fucking good, monk.”
All you can do is whine in response, as the subtle curve in Suguru’s dick causes it to poke the squishy roof of your tunnel. Your arms are trying to hold onto him, but with the steam, the two of you are just sweaty, wet bodies gliding against each other.
His abs rub over your belly and sensitive nipples, and he takes in the way each grind makes you gasp a little harder than before.
"F-fuck, Suguru," you whimper.
"Hah - ngh," he growls in your ear. "Don't say my name like that."
"S-Suguru," you repeat, feeling his nails attempt to dig into your skin before his fingers slide over your wet hips. "Wanna feel your cum."
He shakes his head, slinging water all over your face until you’re envisioning it being his warm semen instead. "N-No, feels too good, don't wanna cum yet."
You continue pushing him. "Cum for me, please?"
"No," Suguru spits, the end coming out breathy as he tries to compose himself.
"Please fill me up," you keep going, knowing that he won't be able to even if he tries.
"Baby," Suguru whines pathetically, but his strokes have noticeably gotten sloppier, needier. "Y-You have to stop."
You shake your head defiantly, before you crash your sweaty lips onto his. You moan against his mouth, taking his bottom lip between your teeth, piercing pressure onto it. His lips part as he continues slipping in and out of you.
Your bodies roll to the side on the sauna bench and continue going at it.
“Can’t get enough,” he mumbles against your mouth. “So wet for me, angel.”
It’s not long before you’re practically shoving him off of you, pussy sore and swollen. But he keeps holding you back onto his cock, making sure you nut on him as many times as he is able to drag it out of you.
Then, after concerns about your time spent in the sauna, you wrap it up - even though Suguru still hasn’t cum himself. But that doesn’t remain the case for long.
You find yourself pressed against the wet shower wall not even five minutes later, only a curtain hiding the two of you from the rest of the people in the bathroom. Suguru keeps his hand clamped over your mouth, whispering in your ear how good girls keep quiet, while making it impossible for you to obey.
And when he finally releases his thick cum all over your asscheek, watching as it instantly washes away under the hot water, he’s sticking it back in just a few seconds later.
Your brain is mushed with ecstasy from the powder, so you hardly notice that you’ve cum on his cock twice already, still ready for more.
GUMMY THROAT / GOJO.
“Want a hit?”
Shoko coughs and turns her wrist to hold her blunt out to you. You sit beside her on the couch and shake your head, holding up the bag in your hand.
“I’m good,” you grin. Inside the bag is edible gummies, which you’ve taken two of, and can already feel your toes stretching.
Shoko nods in understanding and passes it to someone else, leaning back against the couch with her eyelids laying low.
You check your pockets for your other bag, which has libido gummy bears, not edibles. This is the bag you’d handed to Gojo, watching as he’d devoured three obliviously.
“Satoru, you know you shouldn’t have eaten that many,” you’d scolded, trying to play along.
“Relax, my tolerance is higher than yours,” he’d quipped sassily.
But now that Shoko’s party has started to slow down, people disappearing in spurts, others sitting in corners or on the floor because they’re stuck, you and Gojo are having a staring contest - and you know what it means.
His eyes are wide and his fingers are restless. He’s sitting next to Suguru, who’s naively engaged in conversation with a pretty ginger. You’re pretending to ignore Gojo’s clear body language that says he wants to leave so that he can scramble your brains.
You giggle as your head falls on Shoko’s shoulder. Your body feels like it’s lifting off of the couch as the THC begins to flood through your bloodstream. All you can do is grip onto your skirt as if it’ll ground you.
Gojo stands from where he sits and struts over to you, his blue eyes appearing to glow with madness. “Y/N, get up,” he instructs, his voice commanding and unlike him.
“No,” you huff, nuzzling further into Shoko.
“Have it your way.” He reaches down and grabs your wrist, yanking you off of the cushions, and you can distantly hear Shoko laughing as Gojo puts his hand under your thighs and lifts you into his arms.
“Hey-!” you protest as you’re now being hauled princess style, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin with just how harshly he’s holding you.
“It’s way late,” he says. “And you’re high as hell. We need to go.”
“You’re being extra,” you scold, bopping your finger on his nose before letting yourself go limp against him. “Y’sure this is about it being late?”
“No, it isn’t,” he admits. “Watching you sit there and play with your skirt is making me lose my damn mind.”
“But I was hanging out with Shoko,” you pout, and realize he is not taking you towards any exits at all. He’s walking you to the back of the house, near the laundry room. “Gojo, what are you-?”
“I need your throat,” he blurts suddenly, glaring down at you with a compulsory twinkling in his eye. “Happy now? That’s what this is about. Need it so fucking bad.”
You giggle. The air feels crisp and your mind is so free. The room spins and you still feel like you’re floating.
“Okay, but be warned that I have cotton mouth,” you hold up a finger matter-of-factly. “May be a bit dry.”
He reaches the laundry room and pushes the curtain aside. If you were more sober, you’d realize how incredibly risky he’s being, but since you aren’t, you don’t care.
He puts you down in front of the washer, and wraps his fingers around your face, squishing your cheeks and forcing your mouth to open. In the same beat, he tuahs a mean glob of spit in your mouth.
“There,” he whispers. “That should help. Now I need you on your knees.”
He uses his grip on your face to push your head down until your knees collapse and you land on them. He releases you and you look up at him expectantly.
“All this for some head?” you taunt, placing your palms on his thighs. “Not that serious.”
“Yes it is,” he whines, “might die if I can’t shove my cock between those pretty lips.”
He leans down and swipes his thumb across your mouth, flicking your bottom lip and making your eyes flutter. You’re looking at him but not quite seeing him, as the gummies in your system have you spaced out. Your limbs feel like they’re stretching. You dig your nails into Gojo’s pants and he responds with an unearthly growl.
Your face is shadowed immediately, and upon focusing your eyes, you realize there's a fat, peachy cock looming over your face.
You gasp, watching as it comes down and taps you on the nose, fleshy and dripping in precum.
“Satoru-!” is all you can manage to say, as his tip grazes your cheek.
“Open up,” he instructs, and you part your lips slowly, expecting him to shove himself inside but instead he leans forward and sends another drop of saliva down your throat. “Just making sure it’s wet enough.”
“Y- mmh,” you're cut off, because Gojo has rammed the tip of his cock between your lips.
You part your teeth and wrap your tongue on the underside instinctually, eyes fluttering closed as you take in his salty taste.
"Speak up," he grunts, “you were being so bratty a minute ago.”
"Ngh - no," you gargle around his girth, saliva filling your mouth and making it hard to breath, pouring out of the sides of your cheeks and coating his shaft.
"Look at you, can't even take all of it," he taunts, pushing his hips deeper so that the tip begins to push down your throat, making you gag, your mouth becoming wetter.
Your eyes are hardly staying open. With your brain being so mellow, all that you can see or feel or taste is Gojo’s cock as it pumps in and out of your throat, bulging through your neck.
“So gummy,” Gojo purrs, putting his hands on the edge of the washing machine behind you. “Throat fits me so perfect, baby, y’know that?”
You can’t respond but the moaning attempt you make around his cock pulls a grunt from him. You know he’s being incredibly loud and obvious, but you can hardly scold him. The most you can do is crack your palms on his thighs, leaving tiny hand-shaped prints on the smooth skin.
“Hngh - what was that for?” he scolds before murmuring, “do it again.”
You smack his legs again and keep your eyes closed. You’re salivating all over his length and it drips down your chin, which is being abused by his heavy sac in repeated claps.
“Quiet,” you moan around his cock, as he’s letting out the most pathetic, desperate moans while you drive your mouth down to the base.
��N-No,” he grumbles, lifting his shirt up, before taking it between his teeth. You’re met face to face his with his perfect abdomen, glistening in droplets of sweat. “You suck me up so good, princess.”
Your eyes roll in pleasure at the name, eyes watering, mouth no longer dry. You don’t care if he wants to wake up the neighborhood; you just want to hear the delicious, sultry noises.
But right when you feel his dick twitch against the sides of your cheeks, you force your mouth off and swallow down the pool of saliva in the back of your throat. Your lips are wet and puffy as you part them and stare up at him.
“Gah - baby, why?” he quarrels, gripping tightly on your head.
You answer by leaning back forward and kissing his tip, sticking out your tongue and flicking it over the head before backing up again.
His knees nearly buckle, his grip on your head tightens.
“P-please don’t,” he whimpers. “S-suck it.”
“Mm-mm,” you mouth defiantly, wrapping your lips over the tip and gently pressing your teeth down; should he try to shove it deeper, it would only hurt him.
“Ngh - ‘m too horny for this, baby,” he growls. “Was so close.”
“Too bad,” you shrug, voice muffled because of the way you’re swirling your tongue over his slick pink tip.
His head falls forward, white locks dangling over his face as he tries to fight through his unbearably high libido. Your high has started to wear off but you can tell it’s going to be a long night for Satoru.
“Alright princess, I-I’ll remember this,” he coos from above, trying to push his hips towards your face but ultimately hissing and stopping when your teeth clamp down on the meat. “Goddamnit baby, what’s gotten into you? P-Please jus’ le’me cum.”
“Maybe,” you hum, taking him out of your mouth and using your spit to stroke his cock. “How bad you want it?”
“S-so bad,” he begs. “I’ll do anything.”
“Anything?” you question, running your thumb over his tip. “Hmm. You’re in charge of cooking dinner for a week. Deal?”
“Ah - fuck it, just please,” he whines, writhing under your touch, barely able to get his words out.
“Cum,” you say silkily, sticking your tongue to catch the salty, white ropes that waste absolutely no time shooting from his shaft.
He twitches under your grip until his high has ridden out, but you use his cum as lubricant to keep stroking his poor length.
“Okay, okay,” he whines. “I-I’m good now, agh.”
“You’re not good till I say so,” you gruff, until his hand comes under your chin harshly, and brings you to a forced standing position.
“I said I’m good, but if you think I’m not getting you back for that - you’re a stupid little thing, aren’t you?” He swipes his thumb over your cum-covered lips, and then licks it clean, before cracking you on the cheek. “Now, on your toes baby. And be quiet.”
A/N:
I’ve been trying to finish this for forever bro wtf is wrong with me
I’m fighting demons (writer’s block)
And also… I think I wanna write some Gojo fluff after #jjk271 because my baby deserves love and light good fucking bye.
all the love always!
~pennjammin
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nighttimealone · 4 months ago
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Cw: Nsfw (consent somno)
Sleeping with Simon means you might wake up from the tingling yet comfortable feeling coming from your breast, still disoriented from the slumber, letting out a sleepy whimper as the pleasure keeps coursing through your spine like tiny lightnings.
“Morning.” Simon doesn’t even detach his lips from your nipples as he greets you, lapping lazily and rolling the little peaks with his hot tongue.
“Simon…” Your fingers card through his locks to encourage him, he’s always extra horny in the early morning, but the eagerness in his movements is more evident now than the other days, practically burying his face in your breasts. “What got you so worked up today?” you ask him between the moans caused by his antics, his intentional sucking on one of your sensitive buds makes you unable to hold back a whiny cry of bliss.
“Wake up and see you sleeping in my arms, safe and sound…” Simon huffs out a laugh when he gives your nipples a nip, eliciting a yelp on you “You wearing my shirt, leaning against my chest, just the right angle for me to peek in the collar and see those cute nipples of yours…”
“It’s not my fault, you told me to wear one of your shirts last night.” Your pouty facade can’t be kept on for long, not when he finishes taking good care of your now fully hardened nipples, peppering kisses on his way downwards, as if memorizing your body and claiming his territory again with those pink love bites.
“And you’re the one who chose the thinnest and loosest shirt, ain’t you?” Taking your clothed clit between his lips, he smirks as he dart out his tongue, pressing down forcefully at your core and toying it skillfully, so you’ll throw your head back on the pillow and grind your needy pussy against his lips, begging for more with those sugar-coated pleas. “Fuck, all greedy and soaked just from me worshipping your tits, sweetheart? Who’s the eager one now, eh?”
“Just…Just pull down the panties already, god…” Not enough, your mind screams for more, yearns for his lips directly touching your wet folds.
“Bossy.” He chastises you, like you’re an impatient girl craving for candies, but he won’t deny you—or deny himself, from tasting what he’s been wanting since he woke up this morning.
Pulling down your panties and let it pull around your ankles, not even sparing time to take it off properly, he dives back between your thighs, wet tongue gliding through your core, drinking down those nectar as you reach out and push his face down further, the crook of his nose nudging your clit so good that you roll your hips to meet his consistent onslaught.
“Bloody hell, princess…smells so fucking good.” He groans, a low and half-growling one which only worsen your insatiable desires. Even when he lifts his head slightly to speak, his hands immediately move in, sliding two thick and long fingers into your dripping cunt, pumping and pressing the correct spots to make you scream out his name.
“Trying to wake the neighbors up with those cute moans, huh? ‘m not sure if they’ll feel grateful.” Thumbs spreading your pussy lips, he latches onto the now-exposed clit, bringing you another level of joy by sucking that twitching little thing.
“Simon! Si- oh, gonna…” You try to warn him before you get pushed over the edge abruptly, liquid gushing out and smearing his face, only for him to moan contently and make sure not to miss any drop.
“What a sight…” Straightening up and looking at the pool of mess staining the bedsheets, before his gaze travel to you face, eyes still blurry and cheeks tinted with rosy red, panting and quivering after squirting so hard for him, Simon smacks your pussy teasingly, earning another delectable whimper from you. “Squirting all over the sheets, will have to change it later.”
“Can’t go another round, baby…” You look down at him the moment his lips touch your puffy folds once again, big eyes meeting his dark ones with satisfaction and tiredness, but your protest is cut off by a soft smack on right on your trembling clit, and further words are replaced with moans when he ducks down to resume devouring his favorite meal, pressing a reassuring kiss to your pussy and croon. “Won’t stop until you squirt again for me, you can do it, love, and you will do it.”
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belovedmusings · 10 months ago
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Am I Playing All Right Now?
Kento Nanami x You
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Explicit Smut 18+ (🚫Minors DNI🚫)
Kento Nanami has been your respectful, loving boyfriend for two months now. All you’ve done so far is kiss, and you want more with him. He refuses for your sake, warning of his roughness. So, you take matters into your own hands and convince him to put in ‘just the tip’. 
Relevant tags: just the tip challenge, dom! Kento Nanami, clothed sex, couch sex, clit slapping, brief use of leather belt, hard and rough sex, doggy-style, hair pulling, manhandling, big dick-Nanami <3, dirty talk, degrading, unprotected sex, creampie, I don't use "y/n" for immersion
Music recommended while reading: Dollhouse (The Weekend, Lily Rose Depp, …baby one more time (The Marias), Like U (Rosenfeld)
A/N: this is filthy and I love it, my first Nanami piece <3 enjoy!! (Read on Ao3 if you prefer!)
Read below cut:
The night had gone great. You two had a fantastic dinner at a fine restaurant, and now you’re at his house, getting hot and heavy on the couch. You’re sat in his lap, straddling his waist, the hem of your dress riding up your thighs as the fabric gives to accommodate him between your legs. Your hands are running over the muscles of his chest, only the thin layer of his dress shirt between your touch and his skin. His palms are on your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you so firmly against him that you can feel the blunt heat of his hard cock beneath the confines of his slacks. 
You can feel adrenaline pumping through your veins–tonight is the night. Every time you two get close to having sex, he pulls away, saying he isn’t ready, but right now it feels so different, so electric–
He hums, punctuating the kiss and pulling back, giving you room to breathe. Your stomach sinks, no, this isn’t what you want, you want–
“We should stop here for the night,” He murmurs, and you look into his eyes, a frown tugging your lips down at their corners. 
“But you’re hard,” You protest, “Kento, please…we’ve waited long enough, and you clearly want this…”
His jaw tightens as he takes a breath. “I do…but we can’t.”
Now you’re just confused. “...can’t?”
He sighs heavily, giving you no explanation, but nodding. “Now, let’s m–”
“No, hold on,” You interrupt him, “Kento, tell me why? I-is it me? Do you…not want…?”
“It’s definitely not you,” He dispels quickly, “It’s me, okay?”
“What about you?” You press, searching his eyes. “Is it…are you…worried about your performance?”
That gets him to widen his eyes a fraction in surprise. “N-no, it’s not that. It’s…alright, look, it’s…it’s that I don’t want to hurt you.”
It isn’t enough of an answer for you. “And…what do you mean by that?”
“You…you know me to be this nice, gentlemanly man, don’t you?” He asks, a sort of resigned weight to his eyes. “Which, I am. But not when it comes to sex.”
The wheels turn in your head. “So…you’re…?”
“I’m rough,” He finally states, “And it’s…it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. I’m afraid to hurt you or scare you away. Of course I wouldn’t do anything you don’t want, but…you just seem so sweet and–”
“Woah,” You stop him in the middle of his sentence. “Do you think you’re the only one with duality? You don’t think I can be different in bed? Do you think I’m some porcelain doll you’ll break if you’re not careful?”
He considers this for a moment before sighing. “You don’t understand.”
“So then make me understand,” You challenge him, running your hands up his chest. “Please, Kento. I can take it.”
“No,” He denies, “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
Seeing his hesitance, you decide to switch tactics. You reach for his hands on your waist, taking his wrists and raising his palms up to the front of your dress. You guide them to rest over your breasts, allowing him to touch them through the thin cloth. You’d decided not to wear a bra for the night since the article had thin straps, and he immediately can feel that, a flash of desire flitting within his eyes.
Riding the wave of his interest, you tell him, “I want you bad, Kento.”
He inhales forcefully, allowing himself to knead the soft flesh beneath his hands. His thumbs graze over your hardening nipples, your teeth dragging over your bottom lip instinctively. To drive your point home, you grind down on him, the only thing on beneath your dress being the panties you’d hoped he’d see when you had put them on earlier in the day.
“You’re playing dangerous,” He warns, voice thin and strained. 
“Maybe I want dangerous.”
He finally lets out a groan, surging forward and capturing your lips in another kiss. It’s more forceful this time, and all you can do is give complete control to him. 
He flips your positions so smoothly, you hardly feel it; you just suddenly feel your back hit the cushion of his couch, a gasp pushed from your mouth. His hands make quick work sliding up your dress, fingers hooking underneath your waistband.
Kento speaks against your mouth lowly. “Lace?”
You swallow hard, nodding. “Yeah.”
“Expensive?”
The question catches you off guard. “Uh, no, not r–”
A swift, harsh tug and the sound of fabric ripping later, he holds the scrap lace in his hand, now mangled and unusable. He just tore them clean off.
“Holy shit,” You breathe, now suddenly aware of how bare you are beneath your dress. He must become aware of that fact too, because without a moment to spare, he’s pushing the article up to your waist, exposing you to his eyes. A rosy flush spreads over the bridge of your nose as he looks at your naked lower half unabashedly, a type of hunger you have never seen before nor known he was capable of in his eyes.
He tosses your ruined panties to the floor and fiddles with his belt, undoing the buckle. Your gaze follows his movements, watching his hands expertly tug the leather strap from its loops in his pants.
Then, he surprises you by holding the edge without the buckle and running it along your inner thigh. You shiver, observing him and wondering what his next move will be. He runs it all the way up, reaching the apex of your leg and placing it right over your mound. The cool leather feels unfamiliar there.
“Can I?”
Your attention is pulled to his voice, and for a moment you aren’t sure what he means. Then it dawns on you.
Oh.
No one’s ever done that to you. But…you aren’t opposed. You’re curious.
You nod.
“Words.”
Oh, damn.
“Yes, you can.”
“Good girl.”
You don’t have time to pay attention to the rush of hormones that praise gives you, because a harsh sting of pleasure suddenly hits your senses as he brings the end of the belt down, slapping your clit with it.
“Ah!” You jump slightly, shock, arousal, and fascination flooding you all at once.
“How was that?” He asks, watching you carefully. You take stock of yourself…and are intrigued to find that you liked it. As soon as you realize that, you understand that Kento is about to show you an entire new world previously unexplored to you.
Your eyes lock with his. “It was good.”
A mixture of relief and desire swarm his gaze. “You liked that?”
“Yeah.”
Without warning, he does it again, a little harder, and you cry out this time, unused to the strangely welcome sensation.
“Still good?”
“Yes.”
“Good girl.”
Your next breath is shaky. “More.”
He wastes no time in delivering exactly what you want. Over and over again, until your pearl is red and swollen and the folds beneath are glistening with need, belt shiny with a bit of it. He stops once you reach this state, making sure you see as he licks it off the belt. Your lips part, entranced, and he drops the accessory, instead moving to undo the front of his slacks. Your heart begins racing–but then he pauses, seeming to deflate slightly.
“I’m not gonna go all the way,” He states, “I don’t have condoms.”
“What?” Your voice is more than a little indignant. “But…how?”
“I wasn’t planning to do this tonight.”
He pulls his cock from its restriction in his briefs, pushing his waistbands down to the tops of his thighs, and the sight of the thick, red shaft as your mouth watering and your core pulsing around nothing. 
You think he’s changed his mind as he lines it up, but then he just glides it against your folds, coating it in your essence and using it to rub against you, the feeling intense due to the sensitivity of your previously abused clit, but not what you crave.
“Kento,” You whimper, watching him rub himself off as he plays with you using his cock. “Please…”
“We’re not risking a pregnancy,” He maintains, “It’s not wise.”
You are beyond frustrated at this point, entrance weeping for attention, and you swear the desire is so bad you can feel your entire core sore and empty, vying to be filled and stretched.
What can you say that will get him to do it, even just a little bit?
Wait. Just a little bit.
“What about just the tip?”
His eyes narrow. “What?”
“Just the tip,” it comes out needier than you had intended, but god damn it you’re horny and all out of shame twice over.
Kento takes a good look at you, at himself and the position you’re in, sucking in a controlled breath for the umpth time that night.
Then, he lines up again, cockhead pressing against your entrance. “You’re going to regret asking for it.”
Is he challenging you? Whatever. What. Ever. You’ve reached a point where if you don’t get his cock soon your heart may actually give out. 
“Let me decide that.”
His jaw sets tightly before finally, finally, he cants his hips forward, pushing the tip of his shaft inside of you. 
As soon as it’s in, your head falls back on the couch, hips starting to roll without your permission. Your body wants him all on its own, and you’re no longer in command of it. He groans, pulling out and then pushing it back in, only the tip again, and you whimper in half bliss and half frustration.
You want more. 
You understand the true meaning of temptation now. You’ve had the first bite of the proverbial apple, and it’s shocking how eager you are to devour the rest to its core.
Everytime he pushes in, never going past the smooth head of his cock, you moan, wordlessly begging for more. There’s a worry in his brow and a tenseness to his jaw that indicates just how much self-control he’s exercising, and as you look up at him, you realize he’s still pretty much fully clothed—his tie is pristine around his neck, shirt fully buttoned up, only his dick out and vulnerable to your eyes. 
It’s unfair, and you seek to change that.
Your hand loops into his tie and yanks him down by it, taking him by surprise. He has to catch himself on his hands to avoid falling on you, a grunt escaping his lips as it causes him to slide further into you.
In a lowered hiss, he asks you, “what do you think you’re doing?”
The tone is so vindictive it has any words dying on your tongue. All it takes is a moment before he’s forcefully breathing out and lifting himself off of you, cock withdrawing from between your legs.
You open your mouth to protest, and that’s when your world spins. 
You were face up, but now you’re on your hands and knees on the couch, having to brace yourself as he manhandles you silently. There’s not even a moment for you to acclimate to your new position before you feel his fingers loop through your hair as you’d done to his belt, and in one motion, he grabs your hip with his free hand and slams all the way into you, pulling your hair back hard to make you arch for him.
A loud cry splits through the air and it’s only when he starts repeatedly fucking hard and fast into you with the entirety of his monstrous size that you realize the sound was from you.
“See what happens when you push me?” His voice is hoarse and gritty, more like a growl than a whisper, a dull ache inside of you where he’s currently remolding the shape of your walls.
All you can do is make incoherent noises, and you aren’t sure whether they’re from pain, pleasure, or a mixture of both. His grip on your hair isn’t letting up and it hurts, but you’ve also never felt so completely out of control of yourself and somehow it just feels freeing to you. 
“Huh?” He asks, and it’s then you realize you never replies to him verbally. You muster up the strength to speak.
“Y-yeah…” it sounds breathy and whiney, completely foreign in the contours of your voice.
“You happy now? Happy you got me to fuck you like the greedy whore you are?”
The harsh word ripples through you hotly and you moan, nodding as good as you can. “Yes…”
“Yes?” He asks, breathless, and he lets go of your hair in favor of wrapping his hand around your neck from behind. “You like being screwed like a whore?”
Apparently, you do. This is new information to you as well. You nod, gasping as he grabs your hand and presses it over your abdomen, where you can feel the flesh rising and falling in tandem with his thrusts. 
“Feel that?” He asks, “that’s me inside of you.”
“Oh god,” You rasp, the knowledge of him so deep inside your body going right to your head. You can feel your mound weeping all over yours and his thighs, the wet slap tell-tale of just how much you’re enjoying this. Just the realization has you fluttering around him, a sensation that isn’t lost on him.
“Fuck,” he breathes, “You really do like this, huh?”
You nod. “Yes, yes, Kento…”
He groans, leaning forward and kissing the juncture of your neck and shoulder, brushing your hair out of the way. 
“Such a good girl for me…my good little slut.”
You shudder, eyes squeezing shut as he speeds his movements up, the hand that was pressing yours to your stomach moving down to the slippery mess that is your swollen clit.
The big palm of his on your neck slides the thin straps of your dress down your shoulders and dips into the neckline of it, grasping your breast as if to claim ownership of it. 
“Oh my god,” You breathe again, hips twitching at all of the stimulation, face hot, entrance thoroughly fucked open and sloppy, debauched by Kento like a destructive form of artwork.
His middle finger massages circles into your sensitive pearl as he continues the grueling pace of his hips, lips pressed to the back of your neck, and all at once it becomes too much.
It crashes into you like the unforgiving wave of the raging ocean, sweeping you into the depths of pleasure.
You cum so hard on his cock he physically has to stop moving, your hold on him so tight he’s locked inside of you. That’s the moment that he follows, spilling his pent up, heavy load into you with a hiss of pleasure. 
Your arms and knees feel like jelly. Your walls are sore and throbbing, completely exhausted from his ravaging. But all you feel is feather-light. Finally, finally you did it. And it was better than your wildest imagination.
Lips place a tender kiss on your shoulder, his labored breaths slowing back to regulation. You feel his cheek rest upon the skin of your upper back. Both of his hands massaging along the sides of your hips.
“I’m sorry we waited so long. I just figured it would be too intense for you.”
You shake your head, turning it to look back at him as he straightens up and carefully pulls out. 
“Don’t do that again.”
The corner of his lips turns up slightly. “Oh no, I won’t make that mistake twice. In fact…there’s something else I want to do now.”
“And what’s that?”
“I want to test your limits.”
__
A/N: here's my Nanami masterlist :) this is the first piece but lmk what else you want me to write for him! Hope you enjoyed.
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d1stalker · 5 months ago
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All of You, All of Me [Logan Howlett]
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Summary: In a world of black and white, the only person who could bring colour to your life is the last one who'd want to.
Warnings: au where everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate, fem!reader, slow burn, angst, running away from feelings, pining, grovelinggg WC: 14.2k - MASTERLIST - A/N: help i'm sorry i didn't mean for it to get this long, but this fic is my baby
----
You've always cherished the idea of having a soulmate—someone who would love you unconditionally, waiting just for you as you them. The thought of finding that perfect match, the one who complements you in every way, is something you’ve always dreamed of. 
But as you get older, the hope you carry seems to dwindle more and more each year. Everyone around you has found their other half, reveling in the newfound ability to see colours in all their glory, and soaking up every moment of shared affection.
Everyone, except for you.
Your world remains a stark, colourless void, as if the universe is deliberately withholding the one thing you desire most.
And to make matters worse, despite not finding your soulmate, you are unequivocally, irrevocably in love with someone who has.
Logan Howlett.
You can’t remember a time where you didn’t feel anything toward him. His rugged, lone-wolf demeanor snuck its way deep into the crevices of your heart, and made itself a home there.
You and him formed an unlikely friendship, formed through the desire to fight back against all the people who’ve wronged mutants. Over the years, you had accepted the fact that while he wasn’t yours, at least you were alone together. Well, until she came.
Jean Grey.
She was strong, charming, and everything you felt you weren’t. It was no wonder her and Logan were meant to be together—the stoic, brooding mutant and his graceful, strong-willed counterpart. 
You remember the day it happened so vividly, it’s almost like you were the one who found their life partner. You and him had been walking around the mansion, when Charles had called you into his office to meet someone new. One look at their faces when they made eye contact and you knew you’d lost him.
It pained you to see them all over each other, all the time. Your once-regular walks in the garden became rare, then vanished entirely. On missions, he no longer looked out for you; his attention was consumed by protecting her. And as much as it hurt, you couldn’t deny they seemed perfect for each other—just as soulmates should be. You had no right to feel jealous.
Then, just as quickly as she had entered his life, she left it. 
The Pheonix was too strong, ripping her apart from the inside out. The pained scream he let out as not only his heart died, but as the world around him faded back into black and white, was forever ingrained into your memory. 
Logan was never the same after that.
 —
You trudge down the familiar halls of the mansion, your feet heavy with the weight of the day. It’s been long, filled with training sessions, team meetings, and a lot of paperwork. All you want to do is retreat to your room, lose yourself in a book, or maybe just sleep until the ache in your chest dulls.
As you walk, you hear faint commotion down the hallway—a low murmur of voices and the occasional clatter of something being moved. But you pay it no mind, too lost in your thoughts to care. Another mission, another discussion, another moment where you aren’t needed. It’s all so routine now.
Lost in your reverie, you don’t notice the figure walking toward you until it’s too late. You collide with a solid chest, the impact jolting you back to reality.
“Oh, sorry—” you begin, stepping back, but the words die on your lips as you look up.
It’s Logan.
Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, shock rippling through your body as you process his presence. And for a moment, neither of you speak. You just stand there, taking him in—the man who was once your closest friend, the man who was torn apart by grief and loss. His clothes are rumpled, his skin rougher than you remember, like he’s been through hell and back. 
You hadn’t seem him in a long time. After the devastation, he stopped talking to everyone. He holed himself up in his room for days at a time, only coming out in the dead of night to eat. Either that, or he was away on a mission–anything to stay distracted. 
But now, looking at him, there’s something different off. Something you can’t quite place your finger on. Did he always look like that? Maybe it’s the way the light above is reflecting off of him. Or maybe it’s—oh.
Looking around in surprise, you watch as the usually dark, stoic walls explode into a deep, rich shade. The carpet below you—no longer a mural of grey—radiates colors you can’t name. Your hands, his eyes, his hair-
You want to open your mouth and say something, anything, to the man who has caused your world to shift on its axis, but he’s already turned, walking away from you.
“Give me a fuckin’ break.”
----
Brown. Logan’s hair is brown.
After Logan leaves you paralyzed in the hallway, you run to your room, find the book on colors you had stashed in your bedside table, and throw open the cover. In it is a diagram that displays every known colour and their names. You learn that your favorite pair of pants are maroon, your bedsheets are navy green, and the X-Men suits are bright yellow and blue.
You stare at the page, each word blurring as your mind tries to process the impossible. Logan’s hair is brown. The thought keeps repeating in your head like a mantra, over and over again, until it becomes a steady thrum, drowning out everything else.
Brown.
You sit back on your bed, letting the book slip from your hands, the pages crumpling as it hits the floor.
Why him? Why me? Why now?
You begin to fidget, the adrenaline of the prior moment causing your heart to flail in your chest like crazy. You can’t stay here, you think to yourself. The idea of locked in your room with only your thoughts for company does not sound appealing. You need air, something to ground you, something to clear the haze clouding your head. Without thinking, you jump out of bed and find yourself heading up to the roof, the one place where you can breathe without feeling like the walls of the mansion closing in on you.
The trip up the stairs feels longer than ever before, each step heavy under the weight of your mind. It’s like every thought adds ten pounds. When you open the door, the cool night air hits you like a welcomed slap to the face, and you exhale deeply.
Walking to the edge, you lean against the railing. You’re in a daze - wondering if you made up the entire thing in your head. The only proof that you haven't, and that Logan being your soulmate is real, is the colours that coat the mansion’s grounds. The moonlight bathes everything in what you now know as a soft, silver glow, and for a moment, you just stand there, looking out into the distance.
It doesn’t make sense, and the more you try to wrap your head around it, the more tangled your thoughts become. You don’t want to face the possibility of what it could mean, but you can’t just brush it aside either. It has quite literally changed your entire life. 
You close your eyes, taking a deep breath in an attempt to quiet your racing mind. But when you open them again, you freeze.
Logan is standing at the other end of the roof, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the sky. He hasn’t noticed you yet, and for a split second, you consider turning back, retreating before he sees you. It would be a wise idea - he didn’t want to talk to you then, and he probably doesn’t want to talk to you now. But, it an act that can only be seen as your own body betraying you, you take a step forward. 
The sudden movement catches his attention, and his head snaps in your direction, his eyes locking onto yours. 
“Why are you here?” he asks accusingly.
You hesitate, unsure of how to answer. Seeing him out here was the last thing you had expected, and now that he’s in front of you, you are at a loss of words.
Logan’s eyes narrow, and he pushes off the wall, walking toward you. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I needed air,” you manage to say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I just needed to clear my head.”
“Well, find somewhere else to do it,” he snaps, “I don’t want company.”
“Logan, I—”
“Don’t,” he interrupts, not even bothering to hear you out. “Don’t start. I know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t want to hear it.”
You blink, taken aback, and hurt at his coldness. “What are you talking about?”
He lets out a low, humourless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? God, I… this is all so fucking stupid.”
Your heart skips a beat, and you feel a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks. “I wasn’t—”
“Enough!” he barks, his voice echoing in the night. “I’m not interested, alright? Whatever it is you think is happening between us, it’s not real. It’s just some stupid trick of the universe, and I’m not playing along.”
His words hit you like a physical blow - like you’ve just been shot at right in the heart - and you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. “I don’t understand. I didn’t mean for any of this—”
“Yeah, well, neither did I,” he snaps at you, “And I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like there’s something here,” he gestures between you two, “when there isn’t. You’re not mine, and I’m sure as hell not yours.”
The finality in his tone leaves you breathless, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. You have nothing to say back, he’s not giving you any slack. The reality of his rejection sinks in with a brutal, crushing weight, you have to put in effort to not stumble over. 
After a long moment, you finally collect yourself. Then, “Okay,” you whisper. “I understand.”
Logan’s expression doesn’t soften; if anything, it grows colder, more distant.
“Good. Then stay away from me.”
You nod, eyes filling with tears. You quickly turn your face away, not wanting him to see just how much he’s hurt you.
“I’m sorry,” you murmur, barely audible. “I didn’t mean to make things worse for you.”
He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even acknowledge your apology. He just turns away, his back to you, effectively shutting you out.
You stand there for a long moment, watching him walk away for the second time that night. The colours that seemed so vibrant, so full of life just a moment ago, now feel like a cruel reminder of everything you could never have.
When you eventually return to your room, all you can do is lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling as your encounter with Logan on the roof replays in your mind on an endless loop, each harsh word he’d thrown at you cutting deeper than the last. It’s causes pain unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, pain that seems to have no end, no respite.
If he doesn’t want you in his life, you’ll accept that. You have to - it’s not like you have a choice. Soulmates are a two-way street.  
You can’t force him to feel something he doesn’t, can’t make him see you in a way he clearly never will. And you understand, don’t you? You can’t even imagine how difficult this would be for him. Losing your soulmate, and then the universe saying Fuck You and giving you another? 
You’ll never ever forget how wrecked he was when Jean died. How her death shattered him into pieces so small you weren’t–no–you’re still not sure he’ll ever be whole again. 
And you—where do you stand in the grand scheme of things? Just as the unfortunate recipient of a bond that neither of you asked for? Are you even allowed to be upset about this?
Waking up the next morning, you honestly wish you hadn’t. You knew you weren’t on good terms with Logan after his little rooftop showcase of emotions, but nothing could have prepared you for the way he starts to treat you.
His face is stuck in a perpetual scowl when you’re in his vicinity. He’s leaving every room the moment you enter, refusing to look at you, speak to you, or acknowledge your presence in any way. It’s as if you’ve become invisible, a ghost haunting the same halls you once shared with him. There’s only one thing you two seem to wordlessly agree on: don’t tell anyone. 
Each day following becomes a struggle, an unbearable test of your strength as you try to make it through without breaking. You begin to avoid Logan as much as he avoids you, but the mansion is only so big, and there are always moments when you catch sight of him in the distance, his broad shoulders hunched, his brooding face glaring daggers in your direction. 
It hurts you every time, an unending torture that leaves you stumbling. Still, you bite your tongue and keep moving, pretending you don’t care.
But you do care. You care more than you want to admit, more than you think is possible. Because despite everything—despite the rejection, the coldness, the anger—you still love him. 
And that’s the cruelest twist of all.
So you endure it, day after day, week after week, month after month. Letting it tear you apart piece by piece, because what else can you do? You carry this burden alone, just as you’ve carried your feelings for him all these years. And maybe one day, the pain will fade, the bond will weaken, and you’ll be able to move on.
The only person you tell is Charles.
“What’s on your mind, my child?” he asks one day, while you’re sweeping the dust in his office. 
You hesitate, your gaze dropping to your hands as you focus on cleaning. You know he’s just asking out of courtesy, and that he could easily crawl into your mind and figure it out himself. He probably wouldn’t even need to put in that much effort, given how loud your thoughts are. But still, you don’t yield to his probing.
“Nothing, really,” you mutter, forcing a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Just… tired, I guess.”
Charles watches you carefully, his eyes full of the warmth and compassion he always has, but this time, it makes you feel uncomfortable. Like he can see right through the facade you’re trying so hard to maintain, which you have no doubt, he does. 
“I’m here to help, whatever the burden.”
You want to groan. It’s not like he’s doing it on purpose but damn does it feel like he’s trying to guilt you into confessing that you just recently had your heart shattered. 
“I know, Professor. But… it’s nothing you need to worry about.”
“You forget, I worry about all of you,” he replies gently. “It’s in my nature.”
The chuckle that crawls out your throat is nothing short of bitter. “It’s just… complicated.”
“Complicated doesn’t mean you have to face it alone.”
You bite your lip, trying to keep the emotions at bay. Do you really want to explain to him the insurmountable suffering you’re in, the rejection you faced from the one person who is supposed to be your soulmate? How can you tell him that the bond the universe forged is the very thing tearing you apart?
“It’s just… I don’t know how to make sense of it, Professor,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Everything’s so… wrong.”
He leans forward slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Wrong how?”
Knowing that you’re teetering into confession territory, you hesitate, needing time to collect your thoughts. 
“Logan… he… we… It’s not supposed to be like this, is it?” you eventually get out. Not your best work, but you know he’d get the gist. 
Understanding dawns in Charles’s eyes, and you can see the sympathy there, the quiet acceptance of the truth you’re struggling to voice. “The bond you share… it’s more than you expected, isn’t it?”
You nod, feeling the tears well up again. “But he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want me.”
The professor sighs softly, and he looks at you like you’re a lost puppy. “Logan has been through so much, more than most could bear. His heart has been wounded in ways that are difficult to heal, and it’s not surprising that he would resist this new connection.”
“So why me?” you ask. “Why bind me to someone who will never love me?”
Leaning back in his chair, his fingers steepled thoughtfully, he says, “I wish I had an answer for you, my dear. The universe works in mysterious ways, ways that often defy our understanding. But I do know this: the bond you share is there for a reason. Whether it’s meant to bring you closer or to teach you something important… that remains to be seen.”
“It feels like a punishment,” you whisper, the tears finally spilling over. As much as you hate being put on the hot seat, you can admit that it feels good talking to someone about it.  “Every day, it hurts more. And he won’t even look at me. I don’t know how to make it stop.”
“The heartache you’re feeling is profound, but you must understand that it’s not your fault. Logan’s reaction isn’t a reflection of your worth, but of his own pain and fear.”
He reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your own before continuing.
“To love, even when it’s not returned, takes incredible courage. But you must also take care of yourself. Give Logan the space he needs, and in the meantime, allow yourself the grace to heal.”
So you do. In the days that follow your conversation with Charles, you make a promise to yourself—to try, really try, to focus on your own life, to reclaim the parts of yourself that have been overshadowed by the pain of this unrequited love.
The colours are still there, vivid and vibrant, and though they sometimes feel like a bittersweet reminder of what could never be, you find moments where they bring you joy. You marvel at the deep blue of the sky, the rich greens of the trees, the way the sunlight filters through the leaves and paints the world in golden hues. It’s like seeing the world anew, and in those moments, you allow yourself to feel happiness.
Moreover, you busy yourself, volunteering for every assignment that comes your way. The adrenaline, the focus, the purpose—they all help to drown out the pain, even if only temporarily. And when you return from each mission, tired but satisfied, you feel a little more like yourself again.
The mansion, too, becomes less of a prison and more of a home once more. You start spending more time with the others, rejoining them for meals, for training sessions, for movie nights. 
You laugh with Rogue, spar with Scott, and even find yourself engaging in playful banter with Remy. It’s not perfect, and there are still moments where you catch yourself faltering, when the weight of everything threatens to pull you under, but those moments are becoming fewer and farther between.
You’re healing, slowly but surely, and with each passing day, you feel a little stronger, a little more in control of your life—of your emotions. 
But then there are the times when you cross paths with Logan, and those moments are the hardest.
One evening, after returning from a particularly grueling mission, you find yourself heading toward the kitchen, your mind on the sandwich you plan to make. The place is quiet, most of the team out on various assignments, or finishing up on some work, and you relish the peace as you walk down the corridor.
However, just as you reach the kitchen door and push it open, you find Logan standing there, preparing to exit the room at the exact same moment. Your heart lurches, and you stop dead in your tracks, almost like a deer caught in headlights. 
His gaze meets yours, and all you can see is his impassive, stoic expression. He steps back, giving you space to enter, but the tension between you is palpable.
“Sorry,” you mumble, stepping to the side, trying to make yourself as small as possible.
Logan doesn’t say anything, barely nodding—if you could even it that— before brushing past you, his shoulder grazing yours. The brief contact sends a jolt through your system, and you have to force yourself to stay still and not physically react. 
Once he leaves, you let out a shaky breath, your heart still racing from the encounter. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to him—so long since you’ve seen the deep brown of his hair that you love so much. You hate this. 
Why does he have no reaction to at all? Why is it only you who seems to care? 
Because you are the only one who does care.
You move into the kitchen, still intent on eating, but it’s a challenge. Your hands are trembling.
It all comes to a head one night during dinner. In this rare occasion, both you and Logan are in the same room. You’re supposed to be celebrating Rogue and Gambit’s anniversary, and even though you insisted that they share this special moment together alone, they didn’t take no for an answer. 
That’s how you find yourself, sitting at the grand dining table with all your friends, and Logan. 
He’s across from you. Just your luck.
He refuses to spare you a single glance, his eyes staying busy the whole night. And while it’s been months and months of this, you have never gotten used to it. Still, you can’t help but sneak a few looks at that chocolate-coloured hair. Brown. 
Everything seems to be going smoothly, the food is delicious and the dessert even better, but when Gambit presents Rogue with a giant painting, that’s when you slip up. 
“I love how you blended the red with the blue!” You compliment, loving the way he managed to create the perfect contrast between shades. You’re too caught up in staring at the artwork to realize the table as gone deathly quiet, all eyes on you.
Rogue's expression is one of gentle confusion, her head tilted slightly as she tries to make sense of your words. “Darling, I thought you couldn’t see colour?”
In any other situation, you’re sure the team would have laughed at how comically large your eyes got, and how all the blood draining from your face makes you look like a gaping fish, but in this moment, nothing is funny. You can feel Logan’s eyes on you, and when you finally muster the courage to glance at him, you see that his all-too familiar glare you’ve been subject to for the last half-year. It makes your heart thud painfully in your chest
“I…” you begin, but you falter. Your mind is going through a thousand thoughts per minute, searching for an excuse you can use to deflect, to pretend it was just a mistake, but the silence is too heavy, too demanding.
Rogue’s confusion deepens, her gaze flickering between you and Logan, who is now staring at you with an expression that’s impossible to read. She starts to say something, but Remy gently places a hand on her arm, shaking his head slightly as if to tell her to let you speak. 
Logan’s gaze stays locked on you for a moment longer. Then, without a word, he pushes his chair back, the legs scraping harshly against the floor. The sound echoes in the silence, and before you can react, he stands up and walks out of the room, his movements stiff, almost mechanical.
The door closes behind him with a quiet click, and the tension in the room thickens. You feel a rush of embarrassment flood through you, your heart sinking as the reality of what just happened crashes over you. 
You lower your head, your eyes stinging with tears that you fight desperately to hold back. But it’s no use. The emotions you’ve been trying to keep buried for so long bubble to the surface, and before you can stop yourself, the tears start to fall. 
“I think I need a moment,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling as you stand up from the table. Without waiting for a response, you hastily excuse yourself and head for the door, not before mumbling a quick apology to the couple in which you were there for.
Soon you find yourself outside in the gardens, the nightly breeze hitting your face as you make your way to a secluded bench. You can’t even appreciate the beauty in what you see, because all you feel is the overwhelming sense of failure and sadness that threatens to swallow you whole.
Sitting down heavily on the bench, you bury your face in your hands and let go. The sobs come hard and fast, each one ripping through you with a force that leaves you breathless. You’re heartbroken and angry and absolutely over it, but at the same time you feel like a massive asshole because who are you to be upset with a man who’s mourning the loss of a soulmate? 
It’s not fair.
You don’t know how long you sit there, lost in your grief, but eventually, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching. You look up, wiping at your eyes, and see Scott walking toward you.
“Mind if I join you?” he asks gently.
You shake your head, unable to find your voice, and Scott sits down beside you on the bench. 
“I’m sorry,” you croak, “I didn’t mean to ruin the night.”
Scott clicks his tongue in disagreement, his gaze focused on the gardens ahead. “You didn’t ruin anything. It’s clear you’ve been carrying this burden for a long time. It’s no wonder it slipped out tonight.”
“So everyone knows now?” you ask. He nods.
“It wasn’t hard to put two and two together,” he concludes, and you groan, bringing your hands to your face.
“I just… I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want to be pitied.”
“Pity isn’t what anyone feels right now,” Scott says softly. “We’re worried about you. You’ve been hurting, and we didn’t see it. That’s on us.”
“It’s not your fault,” you bring your hands down from your face. “I’ve been trying to deal with it on my own. I thought I could handle it, but… clearly I was wrong”
With a serious expression, Scott turns to look at you. “I know what you’re going through, more than you might realize.”
You glance at him, surprised by his words. “You do?”
He nods, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was in love with Jean, remember? When her and Logan found out they were soulmates… it tore me apart. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to move on, and for a long time, I couldn’t.”
The mention of Jean’s name brings a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you, but there’s also a strange comfort in knowing that Scott understands your pain. “How did you… how did you get through it?”
He sighs, “It wasn’t easy. It took a long time, and I had to accept it.”
You wipe at your eyes again, sniffling as you try to compose yourself. “I’ve been thinking about leaving for a while. Taking a longer mission, just to get away for a bit. Maybe then I can figure out how to move on.”
He is quiet for a moment, considering your words. “If that’s what you need to do, I understand,” he says, “sometimes, a change of scenery can help. Though I think you should try to talk to Logan again.”
Letting out a bitter laugh, you shake your head. “I don’t know if he’ll even listen to me. He’s made it pretty clear how he feels.”
“He’s hurting too,” He decides, “He’s not handling it well, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. You both need closure, and running away won’t give you that.”
“What if it just makes things worse?”
“It might.” Scott places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “But it might also give you both the chance to start healing. You deserve that chance.”
You nod slowly, letting the weight of his words sink in. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”
“Take the time you need,” he says. “We’re all here for you.”
“Thanks, Scott. That means a lot.” You offer him a small, grateful smile.
With a final nod, he turns and walks back toward the mansion, leaving you once again alone in the quiet of the gardens. You take a deep breath, the idea of leaving still tugs at you, but now, there’s also the thought of confronting Logan—of finding some kind of closure, whatever that might mean.
You really don’t want to do it, and you’re pretty sure it’s just going to end the same way it did last time - with him shutting you out. But Scott’s words echo in your mind, reminding you that healing often requires confrontation, not avoidance.
Goddamn it.
You huff as you stand up from where you’re seated. You can’t keep running from this, can’t keep letting him run from this. You need to talk to Logan, to lay everything out on the table, even if it tears you apart in the process.
Your anxiety builds with each step as you approach his room, and you pause outside his door, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he could hear it if he was listening. This is it. There’s no turning back now. With a shaky breath, you finally raise your hand and knock. 
There’s a long, agonizing pause, making you strain to hear any movement on the other side. For a second, the silence causes you think he might not answer, that he might just ignore you like he’s done so many times before. But then, you hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching the door. Your heart catches in your throat as it slowly opens, revealing Logan standing there, his expression hard and unreadable.
The moment he realizes it’s you, his eyes darken, and he immediately moves to close the door, shutting you out yet again. However, you’re not letting him get away that easily. Before the door can fully close, you stick your foot out, blocking it with more force than you intended.
“C’mon, Logan,” you press. “You know we need to talk.”
He freezes, his grip on the door tightening until his knuckles turn white. His jaw clenches and unclenches, nostrils flaring. He still doesn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on some distant point as if he can will you away if he tries hard enough. But he doesn’t push the door shut either. The room is thick with suspense, both of you standing there in a silent standoff.
Finally, with a low growl of frustration, Logan steps back, opening the door just a smidge wider, barely enough for you to squeeze through. It’s a reluctant invitation, but it’s all you need.
“Fine,” he mutters, his voice rough, edged with irritation. “Talk.”
You step into the room, and he closes the door behind you, lingering close to it, as if he’s ready to bolt at any second. You feel vulnerable and exposed. It’s suddenly hard to gather your thoughts when he’s standing so close, when the heat of his presence and the distance he’s placed between is right in your face.
“Why did you come?” Logan questions. He still refuses to look directly at you, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder.
“Because we can’t keep pretending this isn’t happening,” you reply, “We need to talk about what’s going on between us.”
His jaw tightens further, and his teeth grind with barely contained frustration. He finally looks at you, his eyes hard and defensive. “There’s nothing to say,” he says bitterly. “I told you how I feel. I thought that was enough.”
“It’s not enough!” you shoot back, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. “You think you can just push me away, pretend like this bond doesn’t exist, and that’s supposed to solve everything? It doesn’t work like that, Logan.”
He flinches slightly at your words, but his keeps his expression hard. “Well what do you want me to say?” he demands, his voice rising. “That I’m sorry? That I didn’t mean to hurt you? Because I am, and I didn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t be what you want me to be.”
His words hurt. 
“I know you told me how you feel,” you start, “but you’ve never let me tell you how I feel. You’ve never given me the chance to say that it’s been tearing me apart.”
A flash of guilt. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think you needed to say it. I already knew.”
“That isn’t fair,” you argue.
“You don’t understand,” he counters, “I lost Jean. I loved her, and when she died, it broke something in me. And now… now I’m supposed to just… move on? With you? It’s not that simple.”
“I never asked you to love me, Logan,” you say, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. “I never pushed for anything more than friendship—it’s not like you gave me the chance! You’ve been shutting me out, ignoring me, making me feel like I’m nothing more than a burden, like I don’t even matter!”
You can see that the pain in your voice hitting him hard, but he doesn’t apologize. Instead, he looks away, his expression conflicted. “I’m trying to protect you,” he mutters, the words sounding hollow even to him
“Protect me?” you echo incredulously. “All you’re doing is make me feel like shit. Like I’m worthless. I can’t even be your friend, to help you through this.”
You pause. “You expect us all to know how you’re feeling, but you can’t even communicate it.”
Logan winces, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, filled with a torment you’ve never seen before. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words seem to get caught in his throat. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I can’t be what you want me to be,” he admits, his tone filled with a deep, aching sadness. “I don’t know how to let you in. Without her, I feel like… I can’t let anyone in.”
Your eyes soften a fraction his confession, but there’s also a deep frustration that burns inside you, a frustration born of months of pain and rejection. 
“You haven’t even tried,” you say softly with a quiet resignation, “You haven’t even tried to let me in, to see what we could have been, even if it was just as friends.”
What follows is a long, nagging silence. You let it linger, giving Logan the chance he needs to think of something to say. But there’s no answer, no promise that things will change, and then you realize, with a sinking feeling, that he’s not going to take that step, too broken to try.
That’s when it really hits you. 
Whatever you were fighting for, was a losing battle from the start. 
You give up.
This time, it is you who turns your back on him. 
“Goodbye, Logan. Take care of yourself.”
You don’t wait for a response. You don’t glance back. You walk out of the room, the door closing softly behind you, and with it, the last remnants of hope you had for something more.
— 
You decide to go on the mission.
It’s nothing complicated. Your task is to survey different regions of Europe, ensuring that there are no burgeoning anti-mutant operations threatening the safety of anyone. The primary goal is gathering information, and quiet observation. No violence, Charles told you in the debrief. 
The lack of immediate danger doesn’t make leaving any easier, though. This is as much about finding yourself as it is about fulfilling your duty.
Rogue and Kitty are with you during your final preparations, helping you pack the essentials and offering support in their own ways. They don’t ask many questions, probably sensing that this decision was not just made on a whim. And for that, you’re grateful.
“I still think you’re crazy for going solo,” Rogue says with a half-smile as she zips up your bag. “But if anyone can handle it, it’s you.”
You manage a small smile in return. “Thanks, Rogue. I just need some time…”
Kitty, who’s been quietly folding clothes and tucking them into your bag, looks up, seriousness clouding her gaze.  “We get it. Just promise you’ll keep in touch, okay? And don’t hesitate to call if you need backup.”
“I promise,” you assure.
She hesitates for a moment before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small device—the X-Men communicator gadget. She holds it out to you, and you reach your hand out. 
“Here,” she says softly, pressing the device into your hand. “This is so you can update us on your whereabouts, your status, or any important mission details. Even if you don’t need anything, just… let us know you’re okay, alright?”
You look down at the communicator in your hand, and close your fingers around it, nodding as you meet Kitty’s gaze. 
“Alright, I’ll check in regularly. I won’t leave you guys in the dark.”
Rogue finishes the last bit of organization. “You’ve got this,” she says, “And we’ve got your back, even from a distance.” You nod, appreciating their support more than you can express. 
It almost feels like a walk of shame—leaving the mansion. Everyone knows why too, and that makes it a thousand times worse. But you won’t let it get to you. With one last look, you get in your car and begin on the windy path to the airport. 
When you arrive in Europe, the first thing that strikes you is the sheer beauty of the landscape. Each city, each town, has its own unique charm, its own story to tell. The bustling uphill streets of Porto, the serene canals of Venice, the ancient ruins of Athens—they all offer a distraction from the turmoil inside you.
The only good part about this whole mess is that you can see colour, and truly appreciate the sights before you.
You move from one place to the next, blending in with the crowds, quietly observing, gathering information, and sending brief updates to the team through the communicator Kitty gave you. Every message is short, to the point, just enough to let them know you’re safe and on track. You don’t share much beyond the essentials, not wanting to burden them with your personal struggles.
Then, in a small café in Rome, you meet a man named Marco. He’s a traveler like you, exploring Europe with a curiosity that matches your own. He’s warm, easygoing, and before long, the two of you strike up a conversation over coffee.
He is charming in a way that makes you feel at ease, his laughter infectious as he shares stories of his travels. You don’t tell him much about yourself, keeping the details of your mission and your mutant abilities hidden. To him, you’re just another traveler, searching for something—though he doesn’t pry into what that something is.
As the days pass, you and Marco continue to cross paths, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to, someone who doesn’t know about your past, about the things you’re running from. With him, you can be anyone, and for the first time in a long while, you start to feel a little lighter. You find yourself laughing more, the weight on your chest lifting a little each day. You don’t talk about the mission, and you certainly don’t talk about Logan.
One evening, as you’re both sitting on the steps of the Spanish Steps in Rome, watching the sunset, he turns to you with a grin. “So, where are you off to next?”
You hesitate, not wanting to reveal too much, but then you smile. “I’m heading to Florence. There are some places I need to check out.”
His eyes light up. “Florence? I’ve been meaning to re-visit. Mind if I tag along?”
A part of you wants to say no, to keep the distance you’ve carefully maintained, but another part—the part that’s been lonely for so long—nods in agreement. “Sure, why not?”
Back at the mansion, things haven’t been as positive. The once lively atmosphere has dimmed, replaced by an uneasy tension that lingers in the halls. The X-Men carry on with their duties, but there’s a noticeable shift—a missing piece that everyone feels but no one talks about. Logan, in particular, has become even more withdrawn, if that’s possible. The man who was once brooding and distant now seems even more so, his mood volatile and unpredictable.
His behavior has become a source of concern for the team. He’s always been rough around the edges, but now, it’s like the slightest thing can set him off. He snaps at everyone, his temper flaring at the smallest provocation. On missions, he’s reckless, throwing himself into danger without a second thought, as if he’s trying to outrun something—or someone. 
In many evenings, Logan finds himself in the mansion’s gym, trying to work off the restless energy that’s been plaguing him for months. The room is always empty, save for him, the steady rhythm of his fists pounding against the punching bag being the only sound. Sweat drips down his face, his muscles straining as he channels all his frustration and anger into each punch. Yet, no matter how hard he hits, he can’t seem to shake the thoughts of you that have been haunting him.
This night, door to the gym creaks open, and Logan doesn’t need to look up to know who it is. He can sense the other man’s presence, feel the weight of his gaze as he steps inside. He doesn’t slow his punches, doesn’t acknowledge Scott’s presence, but he knows why he’s here. They’ve had this conversation before—or something like it—but nothing’s changed. Nothing’s gotten better.
Scott watches him for a moment, his expression unreadable. He’s been watching Logan spiral for weeks now, but he’s kept his distance, knowing that he’d only be pushed away. But this can’t go on—Logan can’t keep doing this, can’t keep tearing himself apart over something he refuses to confront.
“She wouldn’t want this,” he finally says, voice cutting through the steady thud of Logan’s fists against the bag.
Logan’s movements falter for just a second before he resumes, his jaw tightening. “Who?” he growls, not bothering to turn around. “Her or Jean?”
Scott doesn’t flinch at the harshness in the other man’s tone. He steps closer, his eyes steady on their target as he answers, “Both.”
Finally, Logan stops. His fists still as he leans against the bag, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His shoulders are tense, the weight of Scott’s words pressing down on him like a physical burden. He doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t want to be reminded of what he’s lost—of who he’s lost. 
Taking a step closer, Scott’s voice is firm. “Look, I’m not a spiritual person. But I also don’t think the universe messed up with this.”
Clenching, his fists, Logan knows what the other man is getting at, but he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. Doesn’t want to think about what could have been, what he’s been too scared to even consider.
“I know you know how I felt about Jean,” Scott says quietly, knowing he’s breaching a sensitive subject. “Losing her… it killed me too. And if I had been given a chance—a real chance to be with her, to make things right—I would have taken it. No hesitation.”
Logan’s breath hitches at that. The truth is, he’s been running—running from you, from the bond you share, from the possibility of something real. 
“I’m not saying you should chase after her,” he continues. “But I am saying that you need to stop running from her. The universe doesn’t just throw things like this at us for no reason. And you know that.”
The weight of Scott’s words settle over Logan like a shroud. He knows the other man is right—deep down, he’s always known. But that doesn’t make it any easier. The fear, the guilt, the pain of losing Jean—it’s all still there, gnawing at him, holding him back. 
There’s something else too, something he’s been trying to ignore but can’t any longer: the way he feels about you, the way he’s always felt, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself. One of the first thought’s that ran through his head when his world re-erupted into colour was that, had this happened before Jean, maybe it could have worked. Maybe he could have been what you wanted, felt something real.
Scott takes a step back, giving Logan the space he needs. “Just think about it,” he says softly. “Think about what you really want. And don’t wait until it’s too late to figure it out.”
Logan doesn’t respond, but Scott doesn’t need him to. He’s said what he needed to say, and now it’s up to him to decide what comes next. With a final look, Scott turns and leaves the gym, the door closing softly behind him.
The clawed mutant stands there for a long time, his fists still clenched, his mind racing. He knows he can’t keep doing this—can’t keep tearing himself apart over something he can’t change, something he’s too afraid to confront.
But change is terrifying, especially when it means facing the truth. The truth that maybe, just maybe, the bond he shares with you is something worth fighting for. Something that Jean wouldn’t want him to throw away.
With a deep, shuddering breath, Logan finally lets his fists unclench, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away. He doesn’t have all the answers—hell, he barely knows where to start—but he knows one thing for sure: he's can’t run away anymore. Not from this, not from you.
You’ve now spent days in Florence, wandering through the Uffizi Gallery, marveling at the works of the Renaissance masters, and evenings enjoying the quiet serenity of the Arno River. With you, Marco. You’ve grown to trust him. He’s never made you uncomfortable, never had any intentions to take advantage of you, and knows all the best restaurants. 
But there’s always been a small, nagging doubt that you’ve pushed aside—a feeling that something isn’t quite right. You’ve ignored it, convincing yourself that you’re just being paranoid after everything you’ve been through. After all, he has been nothing but kind, always knowing the right thing to say, always showing up just when you need someone.
It isn’t until the two of you are exploring a quieter part of Florence, that the doubt flares into something more. You’re walking through an old, narrow alleyway, the kind that tourists rarely venture into, when Marco suggests you take a shortcut through a small, unmarked door in the side of a building.
“I found this place the last time I was here,” Marco says, his smile as easy as ever. “It’s a hidden gem, leads right to a beautiful courtyard. You’ll love it.”
You hesitate, something in his tone—or maybe it’s the way his eyes gleam just a little too brightly—sets off alarm bells in your mind. You’ve come to trust him though, haven’t you? You’ve traveled together for weeks, shared countless stories and laughs. Surely, he wouldn’t lead you into danger.
Still, as you step through the door, the darkened space beyond immediately feels wrong. The air is colder, damp, and the walls are lined with strange, unidentifiable equipment. You glance back at Marco, and that’s when you see it—the change in his expression. The warmth is gone, replaced by something cold and calculating.
Before you can react, you feel a sharp prick in your arm. Your vision blurs, and your body goes numb almost instantly. You stumble back, trying to push away, but your legs give out, and you collapse to the floor.
Marco looms over you, the smile gone from his face, replaced by a look of triumph. “Did you really think I didn’t know?” he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re a mutant, and you thought you could hide it from me?”
The world around you spins as the drug takes full effect, but you force your mind to stay focused. “What… why?” you manage to whisper, the betrayal cutting deep.
“Why?” He laughs, the sound harsh and devoid of any warmth. “Because mutants like you are worth a fortune. My clients pay top dollar for… research subjects. And you, my dear, are about to make me very, very rich.”
You try to move, to fight back, but your body refuses to respond. Panic rises in your chest as he kneels beside you, pulling out a small device that looks like a portable scanner. He runs it over you, and it emits a low hum as it registers your vital signs, confirming what he already knows. You’re weak. 
“You won’t get away with this,” you say.
“Oh, but I already have,” he replies with cruel satisfaction. “No one knows where you are. And even if they did, it’ll be too late by the time they find you.”
With the last bit of strength you can muster, you reach into your pocket, fingers trembling as you fumble with the X-Men communicator that Kitty gave you. His attention is momentarily distracted as he prepares a syringe filled with a clear liquid, and you seize the opportunity. You manage to pull out the communicator, your fingers barely able to grip it. Then, with a deep breath, you press the SOS button, the screen flashing to life.
You type in the message as quickly as you can, your vision blurring even more as the drug takes hold. 
Location: Florence. 
Message: Help.
Just as you hit send, Marco notices what you’re doing. His eyes widen in anger, and he grabs your wrist, yanking the communicator out of your hand. “You little—!” he snarls, but it’s too late. The message has already been sent.
His face contorts in rage as he slams the gadget against the ground, smashing it to pieces. He glares down at you, his hand tightening painfully around your wrist. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? But it doesn’t matter. They’ll never get here in time.”
Your strength is nearly gone, the drug pulling you into unconsciousness, but you manage one last defiant look. “You won’t win,” you whisper with the last of your energy.
Marco releases your wrist with a sneer, standing up and looking down at you with contempt again. “We’ll see about that,” he mutters before turning away, leaving you on the cold, hard floor as darkness overtakes you. 
You can only hope they—that Logan—will reach you in time.
The signal comes through during a meeting. A sudden, loud beep cuts through the room,  and everyone freezes, their attention immediately drawn to the source of the sound. To Kitty’s pocket. It’s the X-Men communicator, the one linked to your device. 
Logan’s head snaps up, his eyes narrowing as he recognizes the tone. He’s on his feet before anyone else can react, his heart pounding in his chest. “What the hell was that?” he demands, his voice tense with urgency.
Kitty quickly pulls it out of her pocket, her eyes widening as she reads the message that’s flashed across the screen. Her face pales, and she looks up at the others, her voice trembling as she speaks. “It’s from her… Florence… Help.”
There’s a brief pause, maybe a second long in length, and then the room erupts into a flurry of movement. 
Chairs scrape against the floor as the team rises to their feet, already preparing for action. But Logan is the first to react, his face a mask of fury and determination. “I’m going,” he growls, already heading for the door.
“Logan, wait!” Scott steps forward, blocking Logan’s path with a firm hand on his chest. 
“Get out of my way, Summers,” He snarls, his voice filled with barely controlled rage. “I’m not waiting around while she’s in danger.”
“We can’t just rush in without a plan,” Scott insists, trying to keep his own emotions in check. “We need to know what we’re dealing with.”
Logan shoves the other mutant’s hand away, his eyes blazing with anger. “She sent an SOS, Scott! She needs help, and we’re wasting time standing here talking about it!”
The rest of the team watches the confrontation with anxious eyes, knowing that things could easily escalate. Logan’s been on edge for weeks, and the urgency of the situation—of you— has pushed him to the brink. 
“Logan,” Ororo interjects, “We understand how you feel, but we need to think this through. If this is a trap—”
“I don’t give a damn if it’s a trap!” He snaps, his voice rising. “She’s part of our team! We can’t just leave her there!”
“That’s not what we’re saying,” Scott tries to reason, but Logan isn’t having it.
“Then what the hell are you sayin’?” He demands, his frustration boiling over. “Why are we wasting time when we should be getting her out of there?”
There’s a brief, uncomfortable silence, and then it’s Rogue who steps forward, conflicted. “Logan… what if… what if she doesn’t want to see you?”
He freezes, the words hitting him harder than any physical blow could. He stares at Rogue, disbelief and anger warring in his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he growls.
Rogue swallows, her eyes filled with worry. “She left because she needed time, Logan. Because things between you two… they weren’t good. Maybe she—maybe she doesn’t want you to be the one to save her.”
Clenching his hands into fists, his body is taut with tension. “Fuck that!” he roars with a fierce, protective rage. “She’s part of our team! She sent that message to us, to the X-Men, because she needs our help. I don’t care what’s happened between us, I’m not leavin’ her there!”
The room falls silent, the weight of Logan’s words settling over everyone. They know Logan is right—she’s part of the team, and they can’t leave her behind. But they also know that the situation is more complicated than that.
Scott takes a deep breath, his gaze steady as he looks at Logan. “We’re not saying we shouldn’t go after her, Logan. We’re saying that you need to be prepared for whatever we might find when we get there. She might be in a bad place, and she might not be ready to face you.”
“I don’t care,” he says after a brief pause, his voice quieter now, but no less determined. “I’m going to get her out of there. Whether she wants to see me or not, I’m not lettin’ her go through this alone.”
Scott studies Logan for a long moment, then finally nods. “Alright. But we do this together, as a team.”
Logan nods, his jaw set in a grim line. “Fine. Let’s go.”
Your eyes snap open, the dim light of the room piercing your vision. You’re in a large, abandoned warehouse. Your head feels heavy, like it’s filled with cotton, and there’s a dull, throbbing pain at the base of your skull. As you try to move, you realize with a jolt of fear that you’re restrained, your arms and legs strapped tightly to a chair. Panic flares in your chest, and you struggle against the bonds, but they don’t budge.
And then you see him—Marco, standing a few feet away, watching you with a smirk that sends a chill down your spine. His eyes gleam with satisfaction, and you realize with horror that you’ve been caught, trapped in whatever twisted game he’s been playing.
“Ah, you’re awake,” he says, voice dripping with mock concern. “I was starting to wonder if I’d given you too much of the sedative. But it seems you’re tougher than I thought.”
You try to respond, but a gag in your mouth muffles your words, turning them into incoherent sounds. You glare at him your eyes burning with fury.
He only chuckles, clearly amused by your resistance. “Oh, don’t bother trying to speak. We wouldn’t want you calling for help, now would we? Though, I must say, I’m impressed you managed to send that little SOS before I caught on. Clever, but ultimately futile.”
He steps closer, his eyes narrowing as he looks you over, his expression turning cold. “You know, I’ve dealt with a lot of mutants in my time, but there’s something special about you. Something… unique.” He reaches out and grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Too bad your powers won’t do you any good here. The drug I gave you should keep you nice and powerless for the foreseeable future.”
Straining against the bonds, you continue to try to break free, but he drug in your system dulls your abilities, leaving you feeling weak and vulnerable. All you can do is stare at him with hatred as he continues to taunt you.
“Such fire in your eyes,” Marco murmurs, almost to himself. “It’s a shame you’ll never see the light of day again. But don’t worry—I’ll make sure your abilities are put to good use.”
He lets go of your chin, his hand trailing down to your shoulder in a way that makes your skin crawl. “Now, let’s see what we can do to make you a little more… compliant.”
Just as he reaches into his coat pocket, presumably for another syringe, a sudden, loud crash echoes through the warehouse. The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass fills the air, followed by the unmistakable hum of energy blasts and the heavy thud of boots on the concrete floor.
The X-Men have arrived.
Marco’s eyes widen in surprise and then narrow in anger. He spins around, barking orders at the security guards scattered throughout the warehouse. “Stop them! Don’t let them get near her!”
The guards rush forward, weapons drawn, but they’re no match for your friends. The familiar sounds of battle flood your ears—Rogue’s powerful punches, Scott’s optic blasts, and Storm’s lightning crackling through the air. You struggle against your restraints again, desperate to free yourself, but it’s no use. 
Then, you catch a glimpse of Logan. He’s fighting his way toward you, his claws out, slicing through anyone who gets in his way. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, your eyes meet his, and you can see the raw determination in his gaze. He’s coming for you.
But just as he takes a step forward, something changes. He hesitates. You can’t hear what he’s thinking, but you can see the conflict on his face—the way he seems to second-guess himself, the way his steps falter. Your heart sinks as you realize he’s unsure, almost as if he's torn between wanting to save you and fearing that you don’t want him to.
In that split second of hesitation, Rogue swoops in, landing beside you with a determined look on her face. She doesn’t waste any time, using her strength to tear through the restraints that bind you. “We’ve got you, sugah,” she says, her voice steady and reassuring as she pulls the gag from your mouth. “You’re safe now.”
You nod, your throat too dry and your body too weak to speak. Your muscles scream in protest as you try to stand, but she quickly wraps an arm around you, helping you to your feet. You’re shaky, your body still reeling from the effects of the drug, but you’re free. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Logan still standing there, his eyes locked on you, his expression unreadable. He wanted to save you. He wanted to be the one to pull you out of that nightmare, but something held him back.
Rogue helps you toward the exit as the rest of the team continues to subdue the guards and Marco. You lean heavily on her, your legs barely able to support your weight, but you force yourself to keep moving. 
And when everyone else has back in the jet, hugging you and comforting you, you look over to Logan, who sits far away, on the opposite side, refusing to meet your gaze. 
Returning to the mansion feels like stepping back into a familiar, comforting embrace. You missed the soft, warm bed in your room, the quiet serenity of the gardens, and the comforting presence of your friends. It's been a few days since the whole ordeal in Florence, and the drug has finally worked its way out of your system. Your strength has returned, and physically, you feel like yourself again. The mansion, too, seems unchanged—still the safe haven you’ve always known.
But as the days pass, you begin to notice that while many things have returned to normal, some things have not. You’ve seen most of your friends, their faces lighting up when they see you, their hugs tight and full of relief. There have been quiet conversations and laughter, shared meals in the kitchen, and moments that remind you why this place is home.
Except, there’s one person you haven’t seen. Logan.
His absence is like a shadow that follows you wherever you go. You’ve felt his presence in the mansion—heard his voice in the halls, the sound of his footsteps on the floorboards—but he’s kept his distance. He hasn’t sought you out, hasn’t tried to talk to you, and that stings more than you want to admit.
You’ve tried to stay strong, to remind yourself of the resilience you found during your time away. You’ve reminded yourself over and over that you don’t need anyone else to validate your worth, that you can stand on your own. Yet the longer Logan avoids you, the harder it is to hold on to that strength. The old wounds, the ones you thought had begun to heal, start to ache again, and you can’t help but wonder if anything has really changed at all.
More often than not, you find yourself retreating to the front lawn. The sun is warm on your skin as you lie down in the grass, a book in hand. The soft rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant hum of life inside the mansion create a peaceful background, and for a moment, you manage to lose yourself in the pages of your book.
Still, even here, in the sanctuary of the garden, the thoughts you’ve been trying to push aside keep creeping back in. The memory of Florence, of Logan’s hesitation, lingers like a bitter aftertaste. You replay the moment over and over in your mind, trying to make sense of it, trying to understand why he stopped, why he didn’t come for you.
You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice the shadow that falls across your page until a deep, familiar voice breaks the silence.
“I’m glad you’re alright.”
The voice startles you, and you jerk slightly, looking up to see Logan standing above you. His expression is guarded, as if he’s not sure how you’ll react to his presence. There’s a tautness to his posture, a stiffness that you recognize all too well. 
For a moment, you just stare at him, caught off guard by the suddenness of his appearance. He’s as rugged and intimidating as ever, but there’s something different in his eyes—something a tad bit softer. You close your book, sitting up slowly as you meet his gaze. The question that’s been gnawing at you since Florence rises to the surface, and you know you can’t keep it inside any longer.
“What happened?” you ask, your voice steady but filled with quiet intensity. “In Florence?”
His jaw tightens, and he looks away for a moment, his gaze shifting to the trees in the distance. He doesn’t answer immediately, and the silence stretches out between you, thick with unspoken words. 
You just watch him, waiting for an explanation, but there’s a part of you that’s already bracing for disappointment. You’ve been here before, waiting for Logan to decide what happens next, to take the lead. And you’re tired of it. You’re tired of being the one left in the dark, of being the one who has to wait for him to be ready.
Finally, he lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of the world is pressing down on him. “I… I hesitated,” he admits huskily, almost in a growl. “I wanted to save you. Hell, I was going to. But then… I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”
His confession hangs in the air, and you feel a mix of emotions—surprise, confusion, and sadness. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t realized that his hesitation was rooted in something so painfully human.
“Why wouldn’t I want you to?” you ask softly, searching his face for answers.
Logan finally looks at you, really looks at you, and the raw emotion in his eyes takes your breath away. “Because of everything that’s happened between us. Because I pushed you away. I hurt you, and I thought… maybe you’d be better off if it wasn’t me.”
You shake your head, trying to make sense of his reasoning. “Logan, this can’t keep being about what you think is best,” you begin. “And it’s not about who saves who. It’s about being there when it counts. You were there. You came for me.”
He doesn’t have a response to that, at least not right away. He looks down at the ground, his fists unclenching, his shoulders slumping even further. It’s like he’s carrying the weight of everything he’s done, everything he’s failed to do, and it’s crushing him. 
“I’m sorry,” he finally manages to get out. “For everything.”
You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest.
“I know I’ve messed up,” he continues. “I know I haven’t been there for you like I should’ve. But I’m here now. And if you’ll let me… I want to try to make things right.”
You know you should be happy—this is everything you’ve wanted to hear from him for so long. But it’s also too much, too late. The doubt, the pain, it can’t just disappear with a snap of your fingers.
“I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” you admit. 
There’s pain on his face. “I get it,” he says, his voice rough but steady. “I know I’ve got a lot to make up for. And I know it’s not going to happen overnight. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes, if it means I can earn your trust back.”
“I need time. I need time to figure out where I stand, and where you stand with me.”
He nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the ground again. “Take all the time you need,” he says quietly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I appreciate that,” With a small nod, you stand up, brushing the grass off your clothes. “I need time,” you repeat, more for your own benefit than his.
“And you’ve got it,” Logan replies. “As much as you need.”
Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. You focus on yourself, on healing the wounds that were reopened during your conversation with Logan. It feels strange, being the one who needs space, but you know it’s necessary. You find things to take your mind off him: you train more, read more, spend more time with Rogue, Kitty, or Remy. It’s nice.
But Logan… Logan doesn’t give up. He knows you need time, and he respects that. He doesn’t push, doesn’t pressure you to make a decision, but he makes it clear through his actions that he hasn’t forgotten about you, and more importantly, that he isn’t going anywhere.
It starts with the small things—things so subtle that you almost don’t notice at first. You probably wouldn’t have suspected anything if you hadn’t known the kind of person he is. He’s nothing if not persistent. He knows you better than you realize—the rift he created after Jean’s death muddling with your memory—and he uses that knowledge to quietly, almost imperceptibly, work his way back into your life.
In the mornings, you wake up to find your favorite snacks waiting for you in the kitchen, carefully placed where you’d be sure to see them. He never mentions it, never takes credit, but you know it’s him. It’s in the way he glances at you from the corner of his eye as you take a bite, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He never makes a big deal out of it—just a quiet, unspoken gesture that says, I’m thinking of you.
Then there are the late-night training sessions. You go down to the Danger Room or the gym, hoping to clear your mind with a bit of solitary exercise, only to find Logan already there. At first, you’re tempted to leave, to find somewhere else to work out, but something in his demeanor stops you. He doesn’t approach you, doesn’t speak unless you initiate it. Instead, he just… exists beside you, his presence steady and reassuring, like a rock in the storm.
It’s in these moments that you begin to see a different side of Logan—one that’s patient, understanding, and perhaps a little unsure of himself. He follows your lead, mirroring your exercises or silently spotting you during weightlifting, always attentive to your needs without ever making you feel pressured or overwhelmed. He’s just there, offering his support in the quietest, most understated way possible.
And then there are the little surprises in your room—small, thoughtful gestures that you can’t help but notice. A favorite book you’d mentioned in passing suddenly appears on your nightstand, its pages pristine and waiting for you to dive into. The time-worn leather straps on your gear are suddenly replaced with new ones that fit perfectly, the stitching unmistakably done by Logan’s hand. Even your plants, the ones you’d worried would wither away while you were on a mission, seem to thrive in your absence, the soil freshly watered and the leaves turned toward the sun.
He never asks for thanks, never draws attention to what he’s doing. It’s all done quietly, behind the scenes, as if he’s afraid that if you notice too much, you might push him away. But you do notice. How could you not?
At first, you try to ignore it, telling yourself that these gestures don’t change anything, that they’re just a way for Logan to assuage his guilt. You tell yourself that he’s just doing this because he feels bad, because he wants to make up for the past, not because he actually cares. You’ve built walls around your heart for a reason, and you’re not ready to let them down just because he’s being nice.
But over time, those small gestures begin to chip away at those walls, brick by brick. You start to realize that Logan isn’t just going through the motions—he’s really paying attention, noticing the little things that make you who you are. It isn’t just about the snacks or the books or the plants—it’s about the way he remembers the details of your life, the things that matter to you, the things that make you feel seen and understood.
After a particularly long and stressful day, you return to your room exhausted, and all you want is to collapse into bed and forget the world for a while. But when you walk in, you find a small bouquet of wildflowers sitting on your nightstand, the beautiful colors a stark contrast to the dark thoughts that have been swirling in your mind all day. There’s no note, no explanation—there never is—but you know who left them.
You just stand there, staring at the flowers, your heart squeezing in your chest. It’s such a simple gesture, and yet it means so much. You’d forgotten that Logan knew how much you love wildflowers—you’d mentioned it once, years ago. The way they’re resilient, thriving even in the harshest conditions, blooming where others wouldn’t. It’s as if he’s telling you that he sees that strength in you, that he admires it.
And it’s then, in the quiet of your room, surrounded by the small, thoughtful gestures that Logan has left behind, that you realize something. This isn’t just about making up for the past. Logan is showing you, in the only way he knows how, that he wants this. Wants you.
He's finally picked up the pieces of him that fell apart after Jean’s death, and he is willing to pick up the pieces of you that fell apart after his rejection.
So, one evening, months after that fateful conversation on the lawn, you find yourself standing in the common room, staring at the fireplace, lost in thought. The mansion is quiet, the rest of the team either out on a mission or asleep. It’s just you and the flickering flames, the soft crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.
But when you hear footsteps behind you, heavy and deliberate, you know instantly who it is. Without turning, you can sense his presence, the way he moves with that quiet confidence, the way the air seems to shift when he is near. Logan has always had a way of grounding you, even when you don’t want him to.
He walks up beside you, stopping just short of touching you, his warmth radiating in the small space between your bodies. He doesn’t say anything at first, doesn’t ask why you’re here or try to force a conversation. He just stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets, waiting patiently, giving you the time you need. It’s something you’ve come to appreciate about him in recent months—his newfound ability to just be, without pushing or demanding more than you’re ready to give.
"I’ve been thinking," you say finally, your voice soft, as you continue to gaze into the flames.
"Yeah?" Logan asks, his tone careful, as if he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing.
You turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "You’ve been… different. Doing all these little things… I see them, you know."
Logan’s eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long time, you see hope there. "I just wanted you to know that I care. That I’m sorry," he says, with so much emotion. “You were never a burden to me.”
You swallow hard. "It’s hard for me, Logan," you admit, "I’ve been hurt before, and I’m scared. Scared that if I let myself love you again, you’ll just… break me."
He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "I’d never hurt you again," he says, "I’d rather cut off my own damn hand than hurt you. The past is the past, and you are my future."
That’s enough to make your walls crumble completely. You know, deep down, that Logan is telling the truth. That he’s willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust again.
And in that moment, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re ready to let him.
You don’t say anything. Instead, you let your actions speak for you. You close the distance between you, standing on your toes as you press your lips to his in a gentle, tentative kiss. Logan freezes for a split second, as if he can’t believe this is really happening, but then he kisses you back, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close, holding you as if he never wants to let go.
The kiss is slow, tender, full of everything that has been building between you for so long. It isn’t just a kiss—it’s a promise, a commitment to try again, to rebuild what has been broken. When you finally pull back, your breath mingling with his, you rest your head on his shoulder. "I’m still scared," you whisper.
"I know," Logan replies, his arms tightening around you. "But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll take this slow, darlin’. Whatever you need."
You nod. "Okay."
Logan smiles then, a real, genuine smile that makes your heart flutter in a way it hasn’t in years. It’s a smile full of relief, of gratitude, of love—a smile that tells you that he understands just how much this moment means, just how much you’re giving him by letting him back into your heart.
The time that follows is a slow, steady journey of rebuilding trust. Logan is true to his word—he is patient, understanding, and surprisingly tender in ways you hadn’t expected. The small gestures continue—coffee waiting for you in the morning, a gentle hand on your back during missions, quiet moments of companionship where no words are needed.
You can feel the doubts you’ve been holding onto slowly begin to fade. Each time Logan shows up for you, each time he puts your needs above his own, it chips away at the fear that has kept you guarded for so long. It’s in the way he listens when you talk, truly listens, as if every word you say matters. It’s in the way he looks at you—not with the same fury he once had, but with a steady, enduring affection that speaks of something deeper.
With Jean, he loved her because she was his soulmate, she was who the universe destined him to be with. He loved her because that’s what he thought he had to do.
With you, he has a choice. He doesn’t need to acknowledge the bond, but he chooses to. He chooses to everyday and he’ll never stop. He loves you because he wants to, not because he has to.
One evening, you find yourself sitting on the mansion’s porch watching the sunset. Logan joins you without a word, sitting close enough that your shoulders brush. 
“You’ve been quiet today,” he says softly, breaking the comfortable silence.
“I’ve just been thinking,” you reply, leaning your head on his shoulder. It’s a simple gesture, but one that speaks volumes about how far you’ve come in trusting him again.
“’Bout what?” he asks, his voice gentle.
“About us,” you say, your voice steady. “About how things have changed. How… how good they’ve been.”
Logan’s hand finds yours, his fingers lacing through yours in a way that feels so natural, so right. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you echo, squeezing his hand. “I’m not scared anymore, Logan. Not like I was.”
He turns to face you, his eyes searching yours. “You sure?”
You nod, smiling softly. “I’m sure. You’ve shown me that this bond means something to you, that you’re not going to hurt me. And… I want this. I want us.”
Logan’s face lights up with so much love, that it takes your breath away. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad, darlin’. Because I want us too. More than anything.”
It isn’t long before the rest of the X-Men begin to notice the change in Logan as well. At first, it’s subtle—small things like the way he looks at you during briefings, or the way he seems to be more patient, more relaxed when you’re around. But over time, it becomes impossible to ignore.
During a training session in the Danger Room, you’re paired with Logan for a simulated mission. The others watch as Logan moves with you in perfect sync, his focus not just on the mission but on you—making sure you’re safe, supporting you when needed, and trusting you completely. It’s a far cry from the Logan they had seen when he was in mourning, where his moves were rash and careless.
After the session, as you and Logan leave the Danger Room, you catch sight of Ororo and Scott exchanging a look, the kind of look that speaks volumes, full of surprise and a touch of amusement.
“What?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you approach them.
Ororo smiles warmly, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Nothing, just… noticing how good you two are together.”
Scott nods in agreement, his expression softening as he glances at Logan. “Yeah, it’s… different, finally seeing him like this. In a good way.”
Logan shrugs, but there’s no hiding the small smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What’re you guys talking about?”
“Just that it’s nice to see you happy, Logan,” Ororo says gently. “Really happy.”
Logan looks at you then, his smile growing as he meets your gaze. “Yeah. It is.”
More members of the team begin to notice the change in Logan as time goes on. Rogue, who has always had a soft spot for him, comments on how he seems more at ease, less burdened by the weight of his past. Hank, ever the observer, points out how Logan’s demeanor has shifted—less brooding, more open. Even Charles, who has seen Logan through his darkest times, pulls you aside one day to express his approval.
“I must say,” Charles says, his tone warm and approving, “I haven’t seen Logan like this in a very long time. Whatever you two have managed to sort out, it’s working.”
And it is. Slowly but surely, the wounds that had once held you back have healed. The doubts that had kept you from fully embracing your relationship with Logan have faded, replaced by a deep, abiding love. It isn’t just the little gestures anymore—it’s the way Logan makes you feel seen, heard, and cherished in a way that no one else ever has.
“I never thought we’d get here,” you admit one night whilst looking up at the stars.
Logan looks at you, his expression tender. “Neither did I,” he says, his voice full of sincerity. “But I’m damn glad we did.”
You smile, leaning into him as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I love you, Logan. And I trust you. Completely.”
His grip tightens slightly, as if to hold onto the moment, to hold onto you. “I love you too, darlin’. I never thought I’d feel this way about someone.”
You know what he’s trying to say. So without thinking, you reach up and cup his face, drawing him closer until your lips are just a breath away from his. “Show me,” you whisper, your voice low and filled with desire.
He doesn’t need any more encouragement. He closes the small gap between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that is soft at first, almost tentative, as if he’s savoring the feel of you. 
You can feel the heat between you building, the kiss growing more fervent as your hands roam over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt, then into his hair. Brown. 
His hands slide up your back, one hand tangling in your hair as he angles your head, deepening the kiss further until you’re both breathless.
When you finally pull back, your foreheads resting against each other’s, you’re both panting, your hearts racing in sync. His eyes are dark with desire, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he holds you close.
“You’re everything to me,” he murmurs. “I never thought I’d get my happy ending, but here you are… and I’m never lettin’ you go.”
You smile, feeling the last remnants of pain melt away, replaced by a certainty that this is where you’re meant to be. “And I’m never leaving,” you whisper back, sealing your words with another kiss that quickly reignites the fire between you.
This kiss is hungrier, more urgent, as if you both need to make up for lost time. Logan’s hands roam your body with a possessiveness that sends shivers down your spine, his touch igniting a fire in your core.
That night, you lose yourself in him, in the way he tastes, in the way he makes love to you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. Because this time, you’re not just in love—you’re in love with a man who loves you back, fully and completely. 
And that makes all the difference.
----
a/n: i love you if you made it this far. please check out my new series The Feeling's Mutual
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moechies · 6 months ago
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satoru’s punishments 🎀🎶
gojo satoru who focuses his infinity around his already-meaty cock so you’re unable to sink that pretty pussy down on him.
satoru is naturally one to discipline, considering his profession as a teacher. he knows clearly what’s right from wrong, and won’t let you off the hook as if you’re one of his students. you think it’s unfair, but if you were to think that gojo satoru cared so much about your incessant little opinions, you’d be called dumb.
your soppy cunt prods against his protected tip, urging your body lower to sheath his fat girth inside, but to no avail.
“satoru,” you mewl, “i said ‘m sorry. really r-really sorry.”
“hm.” he shrugs, one hand cupping your soft butt, and the other around the edge of your waist. his fake efforts to help you when he’s the one preventing you from pleasure is ironic, and it makes you an unspoken amount of angry.
but your anger is overwhelmed by your carnal desires from the sight of him alone, and the only thing floating through your pretty little mind is to get this cock in you.
“please— let me—“
“no.”
he glides your slick cunt across the faux protection, grinding you down so harshly, spreading your sensitive lips and pressing against your clit so harshly it almost hurts. “y’don’t deserve it, you brat.”
“i d— i do, satoru. d-don’t say that !”
he can’t deny how your sweet little mewls and begs for cock get him uncomfortably hard, wanting nothing more than to feel your chubby walls flesh to flesh with his cock. but he knows you’ll never learn, knows that you’ll be just as bad if he lets you off. even if it’s just this once.
“satoru—“
his wet cock slips from under you, falling against his pelvis and plapping against his tummy. you take the chance to lower yourself, rubbing your sore cunt on the smooth length of his cock.
you rock your hips ever so gently, grinding down on visible, but untouchable veins decorating his gorgeous cock. you’re eager to get your cunt off, but ensure your boyfriend doesn’t grow any angrier.
gojo undeniably grinds up just as desperately against your cunt, listening to the tuneful melody your sweet pussy plays for him. short pants leave his dewy lips, holding your chubby hips down firmly and setting his own pace. “shit. brat.”
he loves the look of panic in your eyes when his hips come to a slow, and soon to a stop, leaving you to mindlessly grind on his cock alone. your crying clit tingles from everything that’s led up to this moment.
but—
“did i say you could do that ?”
your movements come to an abrupt stop when his hands splay across your hot thighs, holding you down tight against his pelvis.
“b-but, you were also grindin—“
“yeah, i was. did i say you could ?” he spits, voice laced with poisonous venom that silences you immediately. his eyes are intimidating, not an ounce of forgiveness or pity lays within them.
“not good. what to do with you ?”
he tugs you off his hip, switching your position so that you’re soon under him.
and for the first time, his bare cock slaps against your puffy lips, and nudges at your raw clit. you moan with inexpectance, the mere feel of his cock slapping against your raw cunt nearly has you cumming.
“s a shame y’don’t know how to act right. c’mere.” he motions, pressing down on your shivering shoulder, “come ‘n suck your cock rights back.”
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porcalinecunt · 7 months ago
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Can i pls request some face sitting headcanons for bllk guys? Specifically Sae, Rin, Shido, Oliver and Bachira solely because i think they're the nastiest 😆🫣 thank God!
𝐒𝐈𝐓.
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🪽 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ face sitting with blue lock boys! ~
��˚ ◌༘͙[featuring] ! ˊ 𝐒𝐀𝐄 & 𝐑𝐈𝐍. 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔. 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑. 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀.
cw — gn!reader. afab!reader. so much oral sex. edging. overstimulation. spanking. spitting. squirting. full on tongue fucking. denied orgasms. pervy behavior. shidou being an animal.
◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ author’s note! : FUCK—this too me way too long to finish, but here it is! apologies nonnie for taking forever ;-;
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₊˚ෆ 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄
slow n steady always wins the race. a motto sae keeps firm when it comes to sex, no matter what he’s doing. when it comes to oral though..god. the agonizing drag of his tongue while he holds you by your hips, moving them against his mouth as he kissed your sensative clit before prodding his tongue against your hole. everytime you try to speed up your pace, his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips and waist to keep you in your place. he might as well be edging the fuck out of you until you finally feel the knot snap in two and gush all over your boyfriend’s mouth. sae, bedroom eyes and all, would admire your fucked out face and trembling body before flipping you onto your back and continuing where he left off. safe to say, you aren’t getting out of his grip until you squirted every last drop.
“s-sae..quit being a tease..” you stuttered, trying your hardest not to buck your hips. if it wasn’t for sae’s strength, you would’ve gone wild and full on rode his face like a madman. his whole arms wrapped around your thighs, gripping tighter then usual while he switched from your clit to your sensitive pussy. sae’s sharp, jade eyes staring up at yours. his pupils were blown with a burning desire all too clear to you, as if his tongue movements didn’t say enough. god, he was a patient one and it was getting on your last nerves. a thought he promptly smacked you out of with a simple strike to the ass.
“paitience, darling. or i’ll leave you like this, i can’t stand whiny whores who get greedy.”
₊˚ෆ 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍
rin is more needier then his older brother, encouraging your carnal desires and egging you on as you rode his face as fast n hard as you please. the guy was basically making out with your cunt, open mouthed kisses and his tongue prying through your pussy had you gripping on the headboards or his hair. his hands roamed your body as he pleased, tracing his fingers against your stomach up to your sensitive nipples where he pinched and squeezed between his fingertips. don't think he'll stop either! long after you squirt all over his mouth, he'll only pull away just to take one long look at your fucked out face before he dives right back in again. rin gets pussydrunk a bit too easily, but why complain?
“rin..m-more, please..! i need more!” you begged and pleaded with a whine ripped straight from the jugular as you grinding your pussy against your boyfriend’s mouth. rin cracked open his eyes, through the blurred chaos, he admired your fucked out expression as you clung onto the wooden headboard for dear fuckin’ life. it was all too addictive to simple get off, how desperate and downright pussydrunk this man was, it’d be too cruel to pull away now! your thought process only strengthened when rin began to tug away at your sensative and soaked nipples from when he was mouthing at them earlier. he simply couldn’t get enough.
“stay with me..please, fuck! jus’ a little more, you can do that for me? please..?”
₊˚ෆ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐘𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐈
so much of a sloppy eater, it’s downright disgusting. shidou’s hands are unpredictable, switching from caressing and squishing the soft flesh of your ass to swatting away at it with quick strikes. don’t get me started on his oral anticts. this man is fucking eating away at your poor pussy, flicking his tongue against your sore clit while suckin’ n kissing at your abused hole. you couldn’t even move your hips with how much he’d just forced you down onto his mouth again, thus you had to sit there and simply take what he gives you, and god, the noises. besides your own moans and sobs for him to slow down, shidou’s downright animalistic growls and groans fill your ears and go straight into your cunt. don’t think he’s done either after you squirt into his mouth, oh no no! he’ll only push you onto your back with the hopes of you crushing his head with your thighs. he can’t get enough of you.
“haah..ah..r-ryu..” was all you could mutter out of your sore throat. after much whining and sobbing from the overstimulation, you could only make small noises of pleasure while shidou ate away like a man on death row. lapping up the remains of your last orgasm, he pried and pried at your hole until you swore he was tongue fucking you. grabbing fist fulls of his blonde hair only fueled the maniac to fuckin’ nip at your clit, an action that forced another intense orgasm out of your abused cunny and soaked his face even more then before. you could feel a smirk form of his lips before he landed a barrage of sharp slaps onto the flesh of your ass, dragging you out of your euphoric afterglow in time to feel his tongue pushing itself back in.
“c’mon sugar, don’t lose me now! we’re just getting started..! now, keep those pretty legs open..”
₊˚ෆ 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐔
mister aiku here pays attention to both puss and ass with glee. when he told you to sit on his face, he meant it. there's nowhere that his mouth didn't touch, meaning you couldn't run from this man either. similar to shidou, he eats like a starved animal in front of a piece of meat. fingers pumping you full while he pays special attention to your poor clit with the occasional nips that would have you mewling and whining like a bitch in heat. but sadly, he's a greedy bastard when it comes to sex, pulling away right before you could have you sweet orgasm. heterochrome eyes staring daggers at your fucked out face while you pleaded for him to let you cum. you were almost in tears when oliver finally stuffed your twitching cunt with his fingers once again and went to town on your clit again. did i mention he pays attention to ass? that poor thing was covered in handprints and crecent shaped dents from how hard he was grabbing it. maybe, even a little bite mark for good measure.
“oliverrrr!” you whined out. "let me cum already! pleasee!" through tears, you could still see that bastard's shit eating grin. he was fucking enjoying this, getting off at your desperation while you bucked your hips at nothing. down there, oliver was enjoying the show he put together for himself and himself alone. his thumb ghosting over your neglected clit, his eyes flicking up to your own, pleading ones. you looked like a kicked puppy who didn’t get it’s owner’s attention, just like how oliver liked you. a shit eating grin stretched across his lips as he promptly gave your ass a hard slap before finger fucking your cunny at a furious pace. the noises it made sounded straight out of a porno as the pro player flicked his tongue around your clitty. it was all too much to handle at once, or so you claimed. you knew damn well oliver could see right through your teary eyes, and sniff out your disgusting, whorish fantasy.
“keep cryin’ like that and i’ll stop again, you hear me? i know you can pretty thing..i fuckin’ know you can.”
₊˚ෆ 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔
what a pervert, a proud one at that too! he couldn’t keep his grabby hands to himself all day, something the grew more and more dangerously obvious as the day went on. sneaky hands up your skirt or down your pants, gentle squeezes on your inner thighs inching too close to your wet cunt. the final straw was when you caught him trying to look up your skirt/down your loose pants. dragging him all the way home where he couldn’t even wait to get to the bed and pushed you against the wall, kneeling in front of you while patting his cheek eagerly. clinging onto whatever door frame or counter was nearby as bachira pressed open mouthed, tongue heavy kisses against your spread pussy. he was a messy eater as well, going as far as to even spit on your cunny before diving back in with the intention of drowning in your juices. bachira was full on obsessed. nothing could tear him away from your cunny, no matter how hard you yanked his hair or tried to push his head away. he’ll always come back for more!
“o-oh god..bachira, baby..!” you sighed, clasping a hand over your mouth in a feeble attempt to not alarm the neighbors. bachira quickly noticed and yanked your hand away, staring up at you with the same crazed look he had all day. he didn’t tear his eyes off of you, forcing to maintain eye contact with him as he licked and macked with your ruined cunt. your knees felt weaker and weaker, probably because of the last orgasms your monster of a boyfriend gave you, yet he just refuses to quit! not the stinging pain of you gripping his hair or even your efforts to straight up push him away so he doesn’t suffocate to death in your pussy. bachira, in retaliation, forced your wrists against the wall and gives your cunt a mean spat. you flinched in shock, watching as he simply goes back to eating you out like a madman. fuck, thank god you made it home in time.
“don’t shy away from me! i’m only getting started, my love..don’t you want me to please you? hm?”
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© porcalinecunt 🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩ྀི do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.
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sttoru · 6 months ago
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 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. dom!sylus x female reader. smut, pwp. gun play. degrading. cowgirl position. power trip. hunter - prey-ish? reader gets called ‘sweetie, kitten, sweet girl, slut.’ not proof read !
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“careful, sweetie,” sylus’ husky voice rings in your ear. your hand trembles as you hold onto the large hand that’s pointing a gun right at your chest. you’re sweating—not knowing if it’s from fear or excitement.
the scene was a familiar one. you’ve been in this position before - on his lap - with a gun involved. yet this time you’re both so intimately connected; your clothes scattered around the velvet chair, your hips trembling as you ride him. the same man you swore you hated.
“it’s quite funny, no?” sylus inquires, unable to hold back a grunt when you stare at him with such a drunken look in your eyes. you’re drunk on the adrenaline, the barrel of the loaded gun pressed against your flesh. a hint of a smirk tugs at his lips, “how the tables have turned.”
your hips don’t stop moving. you pull them up and push them back down, the back and forth rhythm not to be missed as well. he fills you up too well—his pink tip prodding at your sweet spot with precision. it doesn’t help your case at all. especially when you’re whimpering and moaning about how good it feels.
it’s you who’s supposed to hold that gun up to his chest. that’s how it went last time, but alas. this is your second failed attempt to show your dominance over him, onychinus’ leader.
“it’s also quite pathetic to see you give in so easily to me, kitten,” sylus continues, teasing and belittling you. he presses the barrel right above your heart, his finger right on top of the trigger. your breath hitches and yet you can’t help yourself—your body seeks the pleasure by itself. he scoffs, “so desperate. is it that good? does it feel that good to have me all the way inside you?”
you shiver at his words. you can’t respond when you’re busy moaning the name of the silver haired man. he’s so big, you’re absolutely cock drunk on him. you don’t want to admit it. you refuse to, though the answer to his question is still as clear as day.
“sh-shut up,” you try to retort through a choked up moan. the lewd noises of your wetness swallowing him up to the base repeatedly, with each thrust, echoes through the room. it’s not like sylus can deny the fact that it turns him on to see you like this neither; he’s rock hard.
sylus shakes his head with a low chuckle. “you seem to have forgotten that you don’t have the upper hand right now,” he sighs, the metal of the gun gliding up your skin to your chin, tilting your head back. your eyes widen and your hand squeezes his larger one that held the gun.
he bites back a groan when your sloppy cunt tightens up around him instinctively, “do you need me to remind me of your place, sweetie?”
“or do you simply like putting yourself in harm’s way?” sylus adds, his free hand guiding your hips in a strangely gentle manner, just so his fat cock could hit all the right spots. “either is fine by me. i love to tame disobedient prey like you.”
he leans his head back and his red eyes roam over your body. your skin is glimmering with sweat, the dim light in the room giving it a soft glow. his gaze stops at your bouncing tits for a second before returning to your face.
“i—i just want..” you stammer through whimpers. you can barely think, your thoughts are an absolute mess. you don’t know if you should fear the fact that your life is being played with while you’re in such a compromising position, or if you should just enjoy the addicting sensations the situation brings along.
sylus encourages you to keep on talking by tapping the barrel of his gun beneath your chin again, his right eye faintly glowing a brighter red. you gulp as you bounce on his dick. you know your inner desires and needs have already been exposed to sylus—he probably knows what you need, yet he’ll still make you say it to him directly.
“i just.. need you,” you finally manage to form a proper sentence. you’re unable to take your words back. you don’t care at the moment; you’re focused on chasing that sweet high.
sylus’s long fingers tighten their grip around your hip. he closes his eyes for a second to recompose himself before opening them again. “who knew you’d be such a needy slut,” he mutters underneath his breath, trying to keep calm when you admitted to needing him in such a whiny tone.
“need me, hm?” sylus grins as he finally got you to be vocal about your true needs. “need me to fill you up that bad? to pound you brainless? to have you submit to me while i show this slutty cunt of yours what it’s like to have me fucking it?”
the words fall off his tongue with such ease. the sudden dirty talk and change in tone makes your stomach do flips. his free hand reaches up to tug your hair back harshly while he whispers that in your ear.
“yes, fuck—yes, need it so bad,” you nod mindlessly. you don’t care about anything as you’re riding him. you’re willingly handing your destiny over to sylus—which drives him insane. the thrill of having that power over you makes his finger tremble on the trigger. the power trip is messing with his brain.
his eyes darken for a few seconds while he regains his composure. he can’t wait to flip you over and have his way with you.
sylus grins before kissing your ear and neck, bucking his hips up to hear you mewl from pleasure. he pulls away from your skin to look at you with his signature smirk, teasing you once more, “then, who am i to deny my sweet girl?”
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sanjisblackasswife · 8 months ago
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JJK Men with a GF with a Fat Ass (NSFW-ISH)
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…I’m taking a small break from drawing and I missed doing HCs. Shaddap.
Ft. Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Choso
Black ! Fem Reader in Mind
CW: Twt Links!, mentions of sex, men are a bit OOC
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Gojo
Gojo definitely does this to you anytime you lay on his lap. And if he finds out you’re not wearing any panties under it…welp..all plans are now cancelled
He’s a pervert and it’s your fault.
He’s never really seen women of your stature often so when you both were younger he was so BLUNT with his thoughts about your body.
“You have a very voluptuous—“
“Imma stop you right there….VO-WHO?”
“You don’t know what the word vo—-“
“No, I know. I’m confused as to why you are using that word when talking about my ass.”
Gojo is 6’6-7” , he’s a big nigga, but can he handle a big behind?
No.
No he cannot.
He constantly uses his blindfolded eyes to shamelessly watch the way your walk across the room in public. His poker face is actually impressive, but if you couldn’t see how tight his fist were in his pockets it’d prove otherwise.
He’s so got damn childish he does this shit sometimes because he thinks your ass is perfect for playing on
“CAN YOU STOP.”
“Whhhyyyyuuuhhhhhh.”
When you wear moomoo’s or a big shirt it is his favorite
Yup.
Moomoo.
Your ass is free to move and shake to its desire and he just watches in awe. He loves you bad.
Another thing he loves doing is napping on your butt, he doesn’t sleep often, unfortunately, but he can attest that the best nap he has ever taken was in between your plush thighs and ass.
He blames his pretty little girlfriend as to why he is now an ass man when he initially was a boob guy.
Geto
He takes these kinda pictures with you which sometimes leads to him pulling down your underpants and massaging it with his bare hands to then licking or kissing it to then…eating…you…out…while you’re standing.
He loves watching you put on clothes.
Having to shake, jump, and wiggle yourself into some pants is actually so sexy to him.
If your butt is anything like mine and is HEAVY. He LOVES it even more , watching the way the movement in your butt and thighs to match is something Geto finds so so mesmerizing.
One thing about Geto he’s very sneaky, he’ll come up behind you to help pull up your bottoms you clearly need no help putting on, and everytime he does you can feel a slight pressure on your ass that is a verrrryyy familiar feel to a bulge.
He can’t help it, your ass is so pretty.
Sitting on his lap is a must, whether he is talking with someone in public or doing some work he needs to feel your weight on him.
The first time you sat on his lap you swore you heard a groan. When you turned to ask him if he was okay, his cheeks were very pink.
He denies it to this day, but even if he did it’s your fault because why does your ass feel so good against his pelvis?
Showers with Geto are so insufferable in the best way because once you finish cleaning yourself your long haired boyfriend can’t wait to practically grind and hump against you into the cool shower wall.
He definitely loves hugging you from behind, swaying you back and forth. To others it’s a cute gesture seeing such a big man hold you so close, practically dwarfing you , only you and him know the real intention behind it was just him whispering how good you look in that dress and how badly he wants you.
Geto is such a sensual person next to nanami. Even after sex and you’re laying with him in a bliss he finds his way to continue his love by kissing and licking you down and praises of how beautiful and sexy you are even after such activities. He calls it “Cleaning you up”…little perv.
“‘Was wrong?… Embarrassed?”
“YES.”
“Good, now c’mere.”
Toji
Ass eater.🫵🏾
That’s an ass eater he eat ass🫵🏾.
Toji “Ass Eater” Fushiguro
You thought gojo was shameless? Toji is WORSE
As an ass connoisseur he prides himself on always reminding you how fine you are to him.
“You like my dress?”
“Hell yes, mama. Turn around for me.”
SWAT to the ass just to see it recoil
He definitely slaps and GRABS. It’s kinda hot though because he’ll do it anytime anywhere
For example you went with him to some horse racing game for him to make bets and got hungry so you headed to grab a few drinks and snacks. Before walking past him, his legs were spread, tooth pick in his mouth and just like clock work you feel a firm hit to your Jean covered behind.
“OOWWUH!”
“Sssh, Baby im watchin the game….what? Your ass was all in my face what else could I do?”
Whether you are a chunky girl or a skinny girl with a larger butt he don’t care he quite actually is your biggest fan.
Toji is your new seat btw.
Not just his pretty face but his lap too.
He’s a big strong man so don’t EVER think or assume you’re too heavy for him. It ACTUALLY wounds his ego more than you think.
Of course Toji being the ass eater he is almost every other night is spent just like this or sitting on his face. He never seen himself as a pleasure dom kinda guy. With his one night stands he only had sex for himself, but with you of course being the first woman he finally got to love after MamaGuro he takes his time with you. It’s a slutty sight but he knows it’s exactly what can get you off before him
Nanami
This man here.
A KING.
Freaky king but a king none the less.
He loves every part of you.
Which is what he does say and prove everytime you both are together but he does have a small little quirk about him that you aren’t sure whether or not to point it out in fear he may stop out of embarrassment or awareness.
Most men guide their woman by putting their hand on their lower back
Nanami however does this
ESPECIALLY on date night.
Just like Geto he loves to watch you dress, but also dresses you himself
“Wear this, yes? It compliments your skin beautifully.”
“You sure it’s not, because it’s a bit tighter below the waist?”
And now hes blushing.
He’ll admit. Whenever you come and visit him during lunch to feed him a home cooked meal he hates to see you go but LOVES to watch you leave.
Especially with that sundress you wear during the spring.
Nanami definitely is another man that will practically BEG for you to sit on his face.
“It’s okay, baby, honest. Use my face.”
“Kentoooo—!??”
One of his favorite ways to eat you out is like this. It was actually so embarrassing for you at first only because of his SLUTTY MOANS. Which was something you wouldn’t expect from a man like him, but you wasn’t complaining!He whined and whimpered so shamelessly inside you, you couldn’t even make eyes contact after cumming on his tongue.
Choso
Lord bless him.
He is very….confused to say the least.
He never understood the attraction of women’s parts.
Of course he found YOU attractive, but that was all over until he seen your shape.
“Oh.”
“…oh?”
“You—“
You usually wore baggy clothing like him. You decided to change really quickly at his new apartment and he was watching you.
Who knew you had a BODY LIKE THAT under all of those clothes!
“You’re sex—cute…”
Choso isn’t necessarily a shy man, but more hesitant when it comes to touching and complimenting you…
You’ve told him time and time again he is free to touch you when he wants but you sometimes have to guide him.
Usually when he wants to grab your ass he walks DANGEROUSLY close behind you.
So a few times you take his hand and place it on your cheek. For a moment he just rubs his hand across the soft skin and then SQUEEZE.
Choso loves to kneed and rub on your ass while he licks you so usually it’s 69 or you laid to your side.
Another things he actually loves seeing you in are sweats with a small top. Your lower body being heavier than the top is so attractive and you look so squeezable he can’t help but to hug you from behind
Please. Please PUH LEASE wear thigh high socks around him the ones that go RIGHT UNDER the cup of your ass and shake it JUST A LIL in front of him.
Moans at the sight everytime
No like literally MOANS by just looking at your ass jiggle.
He doesn’t think he’s a pervert but from how he grinds and hump against your ass while you sleep says otherwise.
If yall are wondering why I didn’t really speak on backshots it js because ALL OF THEM GO FERAL DOING IT.
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sunarc · 1 year ago
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Dilf Toji fucks you nice and slow when you’re done putting Megumi down for bed. He wants to thank you for being so good to him and his son. As a single dad it gets hard so when you came into the picture offering your services it was hard to deny such a genuine offer. You’re so good to Megumi, gentle, kind and patient. Toji can’t help the growing bulge in his pants when he sees you being such a strong mother figure. He has to show you his gratitude. The best way he can do that is by having you in a mating press so he can fuck you nice and deep. 
“You like that?” his voice is a soft hum. 
You feel dizzy. His cock feels so deep. He’s stretching you out more than ever before. You call out his name in a soft whimper.
“Yeah? I’m right here doll don't worry I’m not going anywhere” he groans.
Toji’s obsessed with the way you look taking his cock. Your hole looks so perfect clenching, barely able to fit all of him. You look so full, Toji can’t help but imagine how full you would look with his cum drooling out of you. He has to see it. He’s determined to fuck you full of his cum. His cock plunges in and out of you creating a pattern. Your moans fall past your lips making a tune Toji never wants to forget. 
“That’s it, good girl, say my name” you sound so pretty to him. “Tell me who fucks you this good, say it , tell me no one can make you shake like this, no one can fill this pussy up the way i can”
He’s never felt himself lose control like this before. There’s something about you, something that leaves him desperate for more. He craves you, desires you every waking second. The way your lips part letting pleads and moans drip off your tongue has him losing his mind. He can’t get enough of you. He knows he should be quiet but the way your cunt feels squeezing him so tight he thinks he just might lose his mind. “That feel good baby? Yeah I know” he coos “I’m gonna fuck you so full” his pace is picking up speed. 
His mind is practically blank thinking of how he wants to fill you to the brim with his cum. No that’s not enough he needs to give you every last drop he has. 
“You need my cum don’t you” he’s desperate to hear you say it. He’s practically begging to hear you asking for his cum. Tell him how much you want his babies. He can make you a mommy. Don’t you want him to make you a mommy?
“Our baby is gonna be so beautiful” he whispers. He isn’t sure if you can hear him but he doesn’t mind as long as you’re still losing your mind calling out his name. 
“That’s right” he growls “Say my name while I fuck a baby into you”
His hand push your thighs further down so he can reach deeper. The way he drags his cock past you slick walls has you shaking. Your words come out slurred. 
“It’s too big” you whine as he goes deeper
“No no you can take it.” he bites he lips continuing his long deep strokes. He knows you can take it. Your eyes roll back when he begins grinding his hips into you. He knows he’s hit the spot he’s been searching for. 
“There she is” he chuckles. 
You can barely contain the moans now. Your body is shaking uncontrollably. 
“Please” you gasp “S-slow down, I’m gonna make a mess” you cry.
Toji loves the sound of that. He thrust pick up speed, fucking into you even harder. 
“That’s it, just like that, make a mess on my cock.”
He’s desperately chasing after his own orgasm. He wants to cum with you. His thrust are sloppy. He’s moaning your name pleading for you to cum for him. 
“Cum-fuck Now” he demands. 
You can’t help the juices the splatter against his abs as he fucks his load into you. The two of you are a moaning mess. You ramble incoherent words paired with his name. His eyes are glued on the sticky mess between the two of you. The squelching sounds of his cock fucking his cum back in fill the room. 
“What a pretty sight this is. I hope it’s a girl” he moans “She’ll have your eyes” 
You can barely give him a reply to focused on the way his cock is still plunging in and out. 
“It’s too much” you slur.
“No baby it’s not enough” he groans “I gotta make sure this tummy is full of my cum. One more just one more okay”
Toji has plans on fucking way more than just one more load into you. He has to fuck you full until he’s sure of it you’ll be the one carrying Megumi’s little sister.
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sexlapis · 1 year ago
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[◉°] … Y/N & TOJI BEING A COUPLE FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT… 537k views
⌦ 🎬 ⁺   .    ❀
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꩜ actor! toji x actress! reader
⤷ synopsis : you & toji deny the dating rumours, but you’re both being a little bit too comfortable with each other for your relationship to be just “platonic”.
sfw, fluff, toji is a little ooc <3
. art credits to deltapork on twitter
.. inspired by this post
… part 2, part 3, part 4
masterlists
actor!toji masterlist
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꩜ first clip
you & toji are in an interview, one to promote the upcoming release of the action movie you both star in where you’re the main love interest. it is bound to be a huge success, judging by the interest and how everyone loves the chemistry you and toji have both in and out of film!
the interviewer asks you a question and while you’re responding you can feel someone staring at you. you turn to your left where toji is sitting, and he has his eyes dead set on you, not looking away for one second. you turn your focus back to the interviewer to continue answering, but you can’t help but turn back and see that he is still staring at you with his intense blue eyes. you repeat this a few times before cutting off your own sentence with a giggle and covering your face with your hands.
toji chuckles in confusion, looking at the interviewer and then back at you, bewildered. “what-whats so funny?”
you look at toji with your hands still covering your face. “toji, i can’t concentrate when you look at me like that!”
toji tilts his head, swiftly shifting his chair in your direction and leans closer to you, practically nose to nose at this point. “like what?”
“like that!” you laugh, covering your hot face once more as he and the interviewer laugh at your actions.
the interviewer chimes in. “i do have to say, your eyes can be quite intimidating..”
“see?!” you say to toji and then look to the interviewer. “thank you.”
toji huffs and just looks at you. and you look back at him with a small grin on your face.
you speak. “as i was saying…”
you repeat your response to the question and toji exaggeratedly stares at you and you attempt to ignore it (and fail).
꩜ second clip
this was a behind the scenes clip, where your cast member is speaking about his characters relationship with the other main characters but sadly for him, that is not where the viewers’ attention was.
in the background, they see toji sitting on a couch looking at his phone and then you walking into frame. toji looks up from his phone, and if you look very closely, he can be seen smiling at you. you walk over and plop down on the couch right next to him. you both talk to each other for a few moments, faces close together and then you lay your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes and taking what appears to be a nap. toji, moving as slowly as he can, takes a blanket that is already on the couch and drapes of over you. you snuggle closer to him, prompting toji to rest his head on top of yours. he does just that.
꩜ third clip
during an interview with you and the cast members, including toji, in front of a live audience, you somehow found yourselves on the topic of the types of cars you all have. you then remember how toji had told you about a motorcycle he owned, but you forgot which kind.
“i think i wanna ride on toji’s..motorcycle! i think-”
you hear the audience laugh and hear a few wolf whistles and you turn to your fellow actors, who are also laughing, especially gojo. you seem confused, but then you think back to what you said a second ago and feel your face heat up in embarrassment.
“oh, no no nonono-” shaking your head vehemently, “that is not-”
“toji’s motorcycle eh?” gojo teases while raising his eyebrows and wiggling his fingers, which only encourages the mockery and your desire to punch him.
you cover your face with your hand and sigh. “oh my god.”
while everybody in the room makes fun of you, you look to the left to see toji’s reaction and the camera pans to his smug smirking face.
“i mean i’m free friday night so..” he trails off, winks at you and the audience goes crazy and you shove your face in your hands.
“forget i even said anything!”
꩜ fourth clip
you and toji were recording a little vlog like video for the fans, talking about what it was like on set when you get onto the subject of what working with the other cast members is like.
“yeah gojo’s is pain in the ass.” toji states and shakes his head, fondly almost. “never stops running that big mouth ‘a his.”
spits of laughter fall from your mouth at his frankness. “uhh..yeah that’s true, gojo if you see this don’t be offended!”
“yeah we still like you we just..wish you’d shut the fuck up more often.”
“toji!” you gasp and slap his chest, “you’re no spring chicken either you know.”
toji scoffs and looks at you with a raised brow. “yeah, you’re a handful yourself.”
“what? no i’m not!” toji tilts his head and blinks. “everyone says i’m great to work with. you’re such a liar.” you roll your eyes with a laugh.
toji chuckles and moves closer to you on the sofa, and leans towards your face. “no ‘s alright. i have big hands.” he places a kiss on your cheek.
“ew, you’re so corny!” you lean away and wipe away his kiss, trying not to smile and look flustered.
꩜ fifth clip
this was a big day for y/n x toji lovers, when a movie you were both in won an award. now, neither of you were the main characters, but the fans made sure to make you both the most popular ones.
while the director is accepting the award, fans zoomed in on you and toji standing near the back of the group of cast members, where you’re tearing up and trying not to cry. you’re wiping your tears and toji looks at you and does a double take when he realises that you’re crying. he looks down at you and hugs you from the side, which makes you lay your head on his chest and wrap an arm around his waist. toji accepts this invitation and full on hugs you, kissing the top of your head softly and rubbing your back.
꩜ sixth clip
toji posts workout videos on his instagram stories. they’re mostly of him lifting weights and they’re rare, so fans cherish them.
and then theres a short video of you laying on top of toji’s back while he does pushups like it’s nothing. you’re smiling, spreading your arms out like you’re flying. toji suddenly starts going fast as fuck, making you bounce and almost fall off. you gasp and start hitting the back of his head while the person recording starts to laugh (most likely gojo).
you fall off toji’s back and lay on the floor like a starfish. the camera pans to a proud looking toji before you kick his face.
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a/n: thank u for reading ^_-
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monstersholygrail · 6 days ago
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Sugar daddy!Minotaur Boss who’s always on time each month to give you your allowance and your days off from work. Except he has a rule where he has to give it to you in person, knowing you’ll run late (he’s purposefully vague on the meet-up time) and so you’ll have to make it up to him and earn the gifts he’s so generously giving you.
He watches you with rapt attention as you bounce on his cock, your pretty plush body moving with every hard smack of your bodies meeting. His hands caress you roughly, taking their pleasure, yet make no move to help you ride him. You can feel him so deep inside you, you can barely stay upright. But your allowance is just next to him and with every twitch of his cock he slides over another hundred. “Go on, be good for me. Know you’ve been wanting to go on that trip. Let me give it to you, baby.” And suddenly you’re riding him even faster, working you both into a fierce climax, wanting those paid days off so badly.
Sugar daddy!Minotaur Boss who agrees to take you on shopping sprees whenever your cute self desires. But only on that condition that he gets to personally choose all your lingerie.
He no doubt always walks in with you into the dressing rooms. Watching you undress and dress up in outfit after outfit till he’s nearly shaking. It gets so bad that by the time you get to the lingerie shop he’s snapping before you can try anything on and he’s taking you hard against the wall, slamming quickly into your hot core. Letting out low huffs, his tail whipping around in agitation as he ruts up into you. “You better wear that red number t’morrow at work. Won’t be able to keep my hands off of ya.” Just the thought has him pumping himself into you even harder until he’s got you squirting all over the lingerie he was already planning to buy you.
Sugar daddy!Minotaur Boss who doesn’t want anything serious but gets jealous when you bring up going on a date later tonight after work.
He cant help but drop your butt on top of your desk, stopping you from thinking about someone who isn’t him for a second longer. He’s bunching up your tight skirt in a flash and sinking his length all the way down to the hilt. He throws his head back, releasing a long groan as your warmth wraps around him so snugly. “Y’know I think you’re gonna have to work some overtime t’night, love. That alright with you?” And he starts fucking up into you, leaving you only able to respond with a weak moan. He won’t stop till you’re boneless, brainless, and with only his name on your lips.
Sugar daddy!Minotaur Boss who knows your limits and relishes in pushing them till you’re so close to breaking. So he frequently makes deals with you, paying you a grand for each orgasm you give him while staying awake.
He gives your cheek a nice love tap, forcing your eyes to flutter open. A whiny mewl falls past your lips, body jerking with each brutal thrust as Minotaur Boss just keeps going. His cock never softening inside you no matter how much either of you cum. “Wakey, wakey, sweetheart. Gimme one more orgasm and you’ll be able to afford that pretty dress I saw you got ‘ur eye on.” Choked whimpers leave you as his cock brutally grinds against your cervix in a way that has your toes curling and your body shaking. Your orgasm sneaking up and blowing through you so intensely you nearly black out.
Sugar daddy!Minotaur Boss who pays for your phone after seeing the older model you have just so he can always know where you are when he sends you out in work-related errands. He also can’t deny the burst of pleasure he gets every time he sees you use it. Knowing it was him that provided it for you.
He often misuses the gift though, not that you have any issue with it. His husky voice crackling into your ear through the phone as he works you through another release. Fuck, you’ve had so many you’ve started losing count. But he just doesn’t stop talking, babbling on about anything and everything. Your damn work schedule tomorrow, the taunting idea of raising your allowance, and all the things he’s gonna get for you. “Be ready to thank me next we see each other. Might surprise ya with some new panties I can rip off or a new lip glass that’ll look so good wrapped nicely around my cock.” He ignores your whimpers, urging you on and on with his words until you’re crying out into the speaker and gushing all over your fingers.
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fushiguho · 13 days ago
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✰ finally domming toji & he’s a brat about it… at first!
cw fem! reader, dom! reader, light bondage, premature orgasm, a little cum feeding :/
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“you’re a mean little thing.” toji grouses between little pants of incredulity as you push him in his chest, forcing his bare back against the silken sheets. “c’monnn, this isn’t you. what happened to my sweet girl?”
“jesus, do you ever stop talking?” you bite, throwing a leg over his burly hips, straddling him. “should’ve gagged you.”
he sucks his teeth, scoffing. “doll, i don’t think that’s necessary.”
you huff an agitated breath. “then shut up. you promised to let me have this.”
tonight, your boyfriend has finally, finally given you the chance to call the shots… or try to, rather. however, he’s having a hard time letting go, relinquishing his inborn desire to assume power. it’s rare to see him like this, beneath you. still, he’s grasping at straws, hanging on to any fleeting shred of power that he can muster as you begin to tie his wrists.
nervously, you fumble with the thick piece of rope that you hold in your hands. a sleazy little grin kisses his beautifully scarred lips. toji almost can’t help but to laugh as you attempt to bind his wrists to the wooden headboard. something between a wince of pain and a groan of pleasure leaves him as you pull through the final loop, finishing your double column tie.
he groans. “a little tighter, yeah?” it’s hardly a joke, but he pulls at his restraints roughly, wrists aching.
you pout, dropping your head to the right in feigned concern and you can hear the breath that catches in his throat. toji, far too stubborn to admit, loves you like this, bad. it took a lot to get here—days of begging, bribery, orgasms. he’d only be kidding himself if he said this isn’t turning him into such a… whore. after all, how could he say no to his pretty girl?
something warm and dangerous twitches against your inner thigh. the sweet tune you hum as you trail an idle finger down, down, down his heaving chest makes his hips rut beneath you, a fruitless attempt at finding release. a guttural sound is parting his lips when you take one of his hardening nipples between your thumb and index.
“you know, i could get out if i wanted.” it’s breathless, a wicked grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “you did a good job…” he pauses, gaze flickering up to observe his bounded wrists before tugging at his restraints, “but this won’t hold me, pretty girl.”
you scoot down a bit, revealing the pretty, achy bulge that rests so angrily between his strapping thighs. briefly, his eyes meet yours, the subtle furrow in his brows making your core tighten with need. a slow, teasing finger skims the stubble beneath his waistband. his stomach caves, sinking in his ever growing arousal.
“you know, maybe i should gag you.” you finally reply after some thought. the notion lingers on your conscious as you drop your head, kissing him through his underwear. “you’re insufferable when you’re not in charge.”
toji can’t help the near feral buck of his hips, an ensuing growl dragging from his mouth. he can feel himself losing his fucking mind as you drag a warm palm over his clothed cock. a violent shudder rattles his body, an unintentional gasp pulling his jaw slack.
“baby, it h-hurts… c’mon now, you’re being mean.”
“take your cock out then.” you challenge, backing away slightly to watch as he struggles. “show me you what it is you want.”
scoffing, he rolls his eyes, looking like the grumpiest of bears as he ruts his hips helplessly, desperately attempting to wriggle out of his underwear with his hands tied above his head. you smile, a pretty little giggle leaving your lips. watching toji struggle to find relief makes a warm, electrifying heat pool between your thighs. how the fuck could he ever deny you of this?
“fuuuck! i can’t!” it’s merely a high-pitched whine as he huffs frustrated little breaths through his flaring nostrils. “help me! you tied me t-too tight, i can’t do it.” he’s whimpering now, chest heaving in time with the mindless jerk of his hips. “baby, i need you to take it out for me. p-please okay?”
never. you have never seen him like this and you’re not sure how there was a time that existed before. a raw moan of relief is belting from his lungs when you finally slip a hand down his tightening briefs. your fingers brush over the twitching length of his erection, collecting the syrupy precum that adorns the head of his weeping cock.
with your other hand, you’re tugging his underwear down and his head is deliriously nodding back to rest against his pillow. your fist wraps around the base of his cock, squeeeezing. the messy tip drools, rivulets of pretty, pearlescent arousal drip, drip, dripping down his throbbing shaft.
“god, j-just put it in your mouth. don’t be like that… why are you being liked this, huh?” instinctively he tugs at his bindings, attempting to reach out for you but finds that he can’t.
he is so fucking desperate for it, yet he can hardly stomach the thought that it’s him begging like a slut to feel your tongue on the head of his cock. god and he’s just pitifully unaware of how he’s fully whining—the usual bass of his tone lost in the pathetic quaver of his crackling voice, reaching an octave so high that it shocks even you.
still, you shake your head, a bewitching smile gracing your lips. instead, you’re shifting lower, lolling out your tongue as you peer at him through batting lashes. toji’s breath hitches as you drool down the length of his cock. a longggg string of saliva tethers your bottom lip to his cock head as you start to stroke him from the base.
toji’s mouth gapes, yet nothing of coherence is uttered. he babbles mindlessly, those dark, drunken eyes stupidly following the hand that works at his cock, utterly enthralled by the subtle twist of your wrist as you near the weeping head. he curses to himself, needy hips still attempting to buck underneath your weight.
with your legs on either side of his body, you keep him grounded as you pump up and down his angry shaft. your warm, wet lips are trailing along his tightening abdomen. the poor boy writhes beneath your touch, his body reacting in a way you didn’t know was possible—his spine bows, hips bucking almost carnally as his stomach caves, arousal swirling deeep in his core.
“please.” it’s merely a breath as you nip the soft skin behind the shell his ear, soothingly dragging your tongue along the forming bruise. “will you kiss me at least?”
you peck the corner of his gaped mouth once, pulling away before he can even register your fleeting lips. toji turns his head, chasing your teasing lips and you smile, swiping your thumb over the head of his cock which pulls the filthiest little groan from him.
he pouts, thick brows furrowing slightly. “you’re being mean.”
“oh, you poor babyyy.” his cock jerks against the palm of your hand at your sweet, condescending tone. “maybe i should keep you like this forever, hm? actually think i prefer this.”
“mmh—why? you like torturin’ me?”
you nod, bringing a hand up to his pretty, contorting face. he can hardly help the subconscious part of his mouth as you tap your fingers against his bottom lip. like an obedient boy, he’s swallowing around the digits with a satisfactory gurgle of unwitting pleasure. curiously, your fingers creep farther down his throat, the tips brushing the very back of his wet tongue.
saliva drips from the corners of his mouth and he gags once, his sable, lust-ridden eyes welling with thick tears. the smile that mars your face is sick, but it’s pulling a loud moan from the depths of his chest. another helpless sound leaves him when your hand tightens around his weeping cock.
“god, i’m so close.” toji gasps around the digits in his mouth, peering down at his furious cock and your jerking hand. his jaw is falling slack, head dizzily slumping to one side. “f… fuck, it feels so good—your hand feels s’gooood. g-gonna cum, can’t h-help myself. you are just sooo pretty like this, baby.”
“yeah? you gonna cum for me already?” the coy tilt of your head makes his stomach sink. a victorious smile cracks along your face. “hardly touched you.”
toji nods dumbly, breath hitching. his hips stutter pathetically, rocking against the agonizing jerk of your fist. the most beautiful sound leaves him, something like a whimpering gasp, his heaving breaths shuddered and choked. it’s loud and shameless and like nothing you’ve ever heard. several, long ropes of pearly white cum follows, coating the expanse of his chest and abdomen like it was meant to.
it’s perfect. everything about this image is perfect. toji looks so pretty drenched and heaving in his own arousal. you watch as his warm, sticky seed trickles down his perspiring skin. you almost can’t help the curious fingers that are dragging along his pectorals, collecting the mess.
“don’t.” is all he mutters as you creep the cum-soaked digits toward his lips.
you smile sweetly. “open.”
and with a dramatic roll of his eyes, he does. he takes your fingers into his warm mouth with a deep, guttural groan, sucking on them until nothing remains. a triumphant smile graces your lips as you push them further, forcing a proper gag from the depths of his throat.
“okay! okay, you’re doing too much, doll… untie me now.” he grouses, drool pooling against his tongue.
you hum in contemplation, tracing mindless shapes against his skin. “and if i don’t?”
“if you don’t and i get out on my own,” he pauses, lifting his head slightly to take in this beautiful sketch of you before smiling something sinister. “you’re gonna fucking regret it.”
it’s a threat and you know it is, so why does it make your core tighten with a need you’ve never known? why does it make your mind race at the possibility of punishment? discipline? it’s merely a warning, yet your cunt aches at the thought of him escaping, it makes your body burn with a fire the begs to be doused and it’s toji who must do it, so you challenge him.
“then why don’t you get out and make me regret it.”
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nottsangel · 1 month ago
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FOUR. face slapping — brothers bsf!theo
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warnings — smut 18+. vaginal sex. degradation. face slapping.
kinkmas mlist. moodboard. more.
plap. plap. plap. the sounds of theo’s brutal thrusts echoes through your bedroom, the bed squeaking with each little movement. the humid air is thick with the filthy sounds of sex, despite the pillow he strategically wedged between the bed and the wall. he just can’t seem to control himself when it comes to you— his best friend’s little sister.
“fuck! right there, yes!” you moan a little too loudly with your brother in the room next door, making theo’s eyes narrow sternly as his fast-paced movements abruptly come to a halt. one of his flexed hands resting beside your head moves to aggressively grip your face, fingers digging into your cheeks.
“hey, hey… you gotta shut the fuck up, alright? you’re being way too fuckin’ loud, cazzo. the whole fuckin’ neighbourhood’s gonna hear you.” he hisses through clenched teeth, a frustrated expression on his face as he’s still balls-deep inside of you, the tip nudging against your sensitive cervix. a naughty smile curls on your lips as you gaze up at him through hazy, fucked-out eyes.
“oh, please… always so arrogant about how good you can fuck me, but when you actually do—which isn’t often, by the way—you freak out.” you playfully lie, even though you both know damn well no other man has ever made you feel the way theo can. he scoffs at your bratty attitude, pressing his tongue against his inner cheek in exasperation as he disapprovingly shakes his head.
“idiota. your fucking brother is in the room next—”
“aww, big, scary theodore nott is scared of my brother? maybe i should moan even louder then, hm?” you tease further as you part your lips and squeeze your eyes, preparing to let out a loud, exaggerated moan, relishing the way your actions infuriate him— but before a single sound can even escape, theo’s palm abruptly meets your cheek, your skin burning sharply at the impact and leaving a red mark on your tender skin.
you freeze momentarily, baffled by the audacity with your head still tilted to the side, before your eyes narrow at him, your top lip curling in irritation. “oh, you dickhead.”
the ocean blue eyes staring back at you show expressions completely opposite to your own— mischievous and cocky, as if he knows something you don’t, with a sly smirk playing on his lips.
theo slowly leans his head closer to yours, his hot breath on your bare skin sending shivers down your spine. “tsk… you can say whatever you want, but i can feel the way you squeeze around me... so. fuckin’. tightly.”
your cheeks heat up instantly, and the words you so desperately want to spit at him are caught in your throat. you can’t deny it anymore, and he can see it too in the way your facial expression instantly shifts into one of desire— it turned you on more than you’d like to admit.
without warning, he begins thrusting his cock in and out of you again, his hips snapping harshly against yours, causing you to instinctively wrap your legs tightly around his sculpted torso. you gasp at the sudden feeling, your hands darting to his muscular arms to steady yourself, nails pressing into them and leaving crescent-shaped marks into his skin.
“so pathetic.” he sneers in a condescending tone before roughly sticking his fingers into your mouth, forcing you to suck on them. you uncontrollably moan around them, sucking eagerly just the way he wants you to, making him bite his lip at the sight, the lust-driven expression not faltering from his face once.
“not much to say now, huh?” he removes his spit-drenched digits from your mouth and drags your own saliva over your flushed face, making a mess everywhere before his palm strikes your face with force once more, but even harder this time, the stinging sensation through your skin igniting a feeling of ecstasy throughout your entire body.
“finally.” he drawls, his hands traveling to the back of your thighs before swiftly pushing them up, allowing him to hit spots even deeper, your legs dangling in the air with each forceful, deep thrust.
“finally i found a way to shut you the fuck up while your damn brother is in the other room.” he chuckles condescendingly, a smug, self-satisfied expression written all over his handsome face as he practically folds you in half. your sore muscles stretch painfully, but your mind is completely fuzzy and overtaken by sheer pleasure.
“and you still think ‘big, scary theodore nott’ can’t fuck you good enough? huh?” you desperately want to retort, but you can’t, ‘cause you don’t think that now, and you never once did. the way theo can make you feel is simply indescribable, almost as if his cock was made just for you, filling you so perfectly and finding your g-spot in no time, while still making you crave for more.
“just shut up and fuck me theo! i— please, don’t stop!”
“yeah… that’s what i thought. we both know you’ll always come running back to me like the dumb slut that you are, whether you’d like to admit it or not.”
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡
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lovesculprit · 1 month ago
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Satoru was forever grateful for being strong, not just because of his work or the endless battles he faced, but for moments like this. Moments when he held you down in his lap, your body trembling and unable to escape, as his fingers worked relentlessly, coaxing sounds from you that drove him insane.
He leaned back some, his pale lashes casting shadows over his crystalline blue eyes as he watched you with a mix of amusement and satisfaction. "You're so sensitive," he said as his hands moved with precision, long fingers dipping in and out of your pussy, the lewd sound of your wetness echoing in your ears.
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you whimpered his name. You weren't sure whether it was a plea or a prayer anymore as you squirmed in his lap, trying to pull away from his insistent touch, but his arms only tightened around you, holding you “I can’t… I can’t anymore.”
“Of course you can baby,” he mused, tilting his head. His words were maddening, his tone reflecting his amusement at your predicament, “You’ve got another one in you, don’t you?”
His fingers were maddening, each stroke calculated to drive you closer to the edge. "Look at you," he murmurs. "So desperate, so needy. It's pathetic, really." His lips curve into a smirk as he watches your face contort with pleasure and frustration. "But so fucking beautiful."
You attempt to close your thighs, desperate to alleviate the overwhelming sensation, but Satoru's strong legs prevent you from finding any relief. He uses them to keep you spread wide open, exposing you completely to his relentless touch. "Ah ah ah," he tuts, shaking his head in mock disapproval. "None of that now, pretty girl.”
You're torn between the need to give in and the urge to struggle against the overstimulation. But here on his lap, with your thighs held open and his arms tightly around you, all you’re able to do is surrender to the sensations. His body radiates heat from where you’re pressed against him, as he effortlessly prevents your struggles. His long, pale fingers continue their merciless exploration, caressing and torturing your folds with each deliberate movement.
His fingers dip lower again, plunging back into your dripping entrance. He pumps them slowly, savouring the way your walls clench around him, trying to draw him deeper. The obscene squelching sounds fill the air, a testament to your body's desperate need.
He traces maddening circles around your clit, the pad of his thumb applying just enough pressure to send jolts of electricity through your core. Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more of that delicious friction, but he denies you, pulling away barely just as you're on the brink of ecstasy.
"Look how wet you are," he murmurs, bringing his glistening fingers to your lips. "Taste yourself, baby. Taste how much you want this."
You hesitate for a moment before parting your lips, allowing him to push his fingers into your mouth. The taste of your own arousal is intoxicating, and you can't help but moan around his digits, the vibrations sending shivers through both of you.
Satoru groans, his grip tightening possessively. "Fuck, you're perfect," he growls, his voice rough with desire. "My perfect little wife, so responsive, so eager to please."
He withdraws his fingers from your mouth, only to guide them back into your dripping core. His pace increases, his touch growing more urgent, fingers curling just right against that sweet spot as he chases your impending climax. Your body tenses, every muscle pulled taut as Satoru's fingers work you closer and closer to the edge. 
With a final, skillful thrust of his fingers, you shatter. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your pussy clenching down around his digits with vice-like intensity. You gush around his fingers, coating his hand as you come undone, crying out his name in a mixture of pleasure and despair.
Satoru groans, his hips grinding against your ass as he rides out your climax with you. "That's it, baby," he encourages, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "Come for me. Let me feel you."
Waves of pleasure wash over you as your legs shake, tears streaming down your face, evidence of the overstimulation as your orgasm consumes you entirely. He works you through the aftershocks, drawing out your pleasure until you're a writhing, incoherent mess in his lap.
As your orgasm subsides, leaving you trembling and spent in Satoru's lap, he watches with a smug, satisfied smirk. His eyes gleam with triumph, taking in every twitch and shudder of your body.
"Look at you," he purrs, his voice low and filled with dark amusement. "So beautiful when you let go.
Satoru's fingers ghost over your sensitive clit, barely grazing the sensitive nub. You whine a faint protest, your hand shooting out in a feeble attempt to stop him. 
He chuckles, the sound low and dark, filled with wicked promise. "Aww, still so sensitive?" he teases, fingers retreating just as you're about to push him away. "I'm just playing, beautiful. No need to be so dramatic." he murmurs mockingly as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, placing a gentle kiss there as you come down from your high.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
reblogsノcomments are greatly appreciated <3
© lovesculprit → do not copy or translate any of my works
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sweeturavity · 1 month ago
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devoted to you ૮ ྀི◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ྀིა
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katsuki bakugo who makes love to you with a tenderness you didn’t know he possessed—he refuses to call it ‘fucking’ says it feels too crude, too disrespectful to describe what you both share. it’s not just about desire, it’s about love, about trust, about the quiet moments where his world feels like it begins and ends with you.
katsuki bakugo who starts by holding your hand, rough fingers brushing against your soft skin, and kisses your fingertips one by one. then your knuckles, each press of his lips slow and deliberate, like he’s memorizing every curve of your hand. he works his way up to your arm, leaving warm, lingering kisses along the way, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your wrist, the curve of your elbow, until he reaches the crook of your neck. he plants a few soft kisses there, his breath warm against your skin, but never leaves marks. he doesn’t need to. others might talk about ‘claiming’ but that’s not him. he doesn’t need proof for anyone else—he knows you’re his, just as much as he’s yours.
katsuki bakugo who never rushes your time together. he’s not in any hurry to get anywhere. he takes his time, savoring every moment, every touch, every sound that escapes your lips. he wants to make you feel good—not just physically, but emotionally, spiritually, in ways that only he knows how. he says it’s how a man should love his woman, with care, with devotion, with the kind of passion that builds slow and steady, like a flame he never wants to burn out. it’s not just about making love—it’s about showing you, with every kiss, every touch, just how deeply he loves you.
katsuki bakugo who hangs onto every word that slips from your beautiful lips like it’s gospel. it doesn’t matter what you say, he’s ready to obey without a second thought, no hesitation, no questions asked. you want to try something new? he’s already asking how and where you want him, his crimson eyes burning with anticipation as he waits for you to guide him. show him, teach him—he’s all yours to mold.
you want to have full control, to flip the dynamic and make him yours to command? oh, that’s his favorite. the way you take the lead, the way you look down at him with that confidence he loves so much, makes his pulse race. nothing gets him going like being yours to use, to please, to satisfy. he’ll follow your every move, hang onto your every demand, and do it all with a smirk because there’s nothing he loves more than surrendering himself to you.
you want him to get on his knees and beg? he’s already there, the second the thought crosses your mind. no words needed—he knows. and when you finally do speak, telling him what you want, his knees hit the ground faster than his pride can protest. for you, pride doesn’t matter. ego doesn’t exist. it’s you—your words, your desires, your commands—and he’d do anything to give you exactly what you want.
and if he ever did say no to you, even once? well, that’s not him. no way, no chance. katsuki bakugo who jokes that you might as well shoot him in the head if he ever dared deny you.
katsuki bakugo who is absolutely, undeniably, head over heels for you—like, beyond saving. it’s almost embarrassing how smitten he is, but he couldn’t care less about what anyone thinks. if someone asks him a simple question, somehow, the whole conversation gets derailed, and suddenly, it’s all about you.
"oh, that reminds me." he’ll start, and then it’s off to the races. "my girl loves that kind of stuff. did you know she—" and there he goes, talking about your favorite foods, the way you light up when you laugh, how you always manage to make him feel like he’s the luckiest guy on the planet.
it doesn’t matter who’s listening—his friends, his colleagues, hell, even strangers. katsuki can’t stop singing your praises. he’ll call you ‘amazing’ and ‘beautiful’ like it’s a fact of life, like the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. and don’t even get him started on the future.
he’s already got it all planned out. every time he talks about you, it’s with this quiet, determined confidence. "she’s gonna be my wife one day." he’ll say, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. there’s no ‘if’ in his mind, only ‘when.’ "and the mother of my brats." he adds with a little smirk, already imagining the future—kids with wild blond hair and that fiery spirit he loves so much in you.
he’s completely, utterly gone for you, and everyone knows it. and honestly? he wouldn’t have it any other way.
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